Four Times Rose Weasley Woke Up In Places Other Than Her Bed
by GraeLiars
Summary: Hangovers make Rose Weasley grumpy. Scorpius Malfoy makes Rose Weasley grumpy. Waking up in places other than her bed makes Rose Weasley grumpy. So it's completely understandable that combining all three makes for an incredibly grumpy Rose Weasley, and a smart person would avoid antagonising her at all costs. Turns out Scorpius Malfoy isn't very smart.
1. Scorpius Malfoy's Floor

_Hey there world. I'm back. Kind of. Let's all just accept this isn't_ The Thing, _or_ The Birthday Present _right from the get-go shall we?_ _Those fics aren't dead, just sleeping. Forgive me._

 _This piece is designed to be more like_ Excuses _in that it will be a series or four one-shots that basically follow the exact same formula as_ Excuses, _although they're all going to be from Rose's POV_ _. Nothing new here. Just arguably more swearing. I apologise, this series is more about me getting back into the swing of things - I haven't had a real hit of inspiration for the longest time, not to mention being unwell, so I'm just getting out what comes into my head in an attempt to get back on the bandwagon and finally be able to start writing again. This isn't adding anything new to this fandom or even to my own portfolio. This is just fun and my own type of therapy._

 _I tried to make them reasonably short and don't expect a huge degree of plot here - this is basically just banter. Also, if things don't seem to make much sense, just stay tuned - I'm planning (and have actually_ written parts of, _good lord Grae you sound almost organised!_ ) _an accompanying piece that will be all Scorpius' POV of the same scenarios. Also, yes it's 'M' - it has bad words, lots of them, hence the rating. But there will be smut eventually, I promise._

 _IMPORTANT: Just to clarify, Rose and Scorpius are rivals in the International Quidditch League, but are teammates in the English World Cup team. If I've made any mistakes with Quidditch-related things I am sorry. In fact if Quidditch inaccuracies offend you, I strongly suggest you stop reading now because I daresay it will happen more than once._

 _Anyways, enough rambling, here's the story._

 _ **Disclaimer:** I'm not JK Rowling, these characters belong to her, I only borrow them with the most honest of intentions_

* * *

 ** _1\. Scorpius Malfoy's Toilet Floor_**

The first thought Rose has is to tell the person playing drums at this early hour to kindly _shut the fuck up_. What kind of inconsiderate asshole plays the motherfucking drums on a Sunday morning when some poor souls (re: _Rose_ ) are trying to recover from what is an exceptionally horrid hangover? She wants to voice her thoughts but all that comes out is an unintelligible ' _marumffapant'_.

As the jumbled assortment of syllables she tried desperately to pass off as speech left her mouth, Rose notices something else – the indiscriminate taste of vomit.

 _Great, last night had been a spewy night. Just super._

It's only now, with Rose contemplating why the almighty creator decided to curse her so, when she fully comes to realize that the aching throughout her body is not entirely contributable to the fact that she drank too much and danced too long last night. There's a pain in her hip and a stiffness in her neck that is only caused by sleeping on a surface not meant for sleeping on. And now that she thinks of it, she's pretty sure she's not in bed, because her bed definitely wasn't made of unforgiving tiles. She's on the fucking floor.

 _Fuck you Past Rose. Fuck. You._

Rose knew that she had to make the very painful decision to open her eyes. Eventually. Just maybe not right this second. Maybe not even the next second either. Maybe not even today. Or tomorrow.

How bout she just lay here to die in peace for about three months, then she'll reconsider? That sounded like an excellent plan to her. You know, apart from the fact that her body ached so incredibly badly that by the time three months came around her hip may legitimately be broken from bearing the brunt of her weight for so long. Hmmm, maybe the three-month plan should be reconsidered.

"Well, well, now there's a sight I'll happily have burned into my retinas till the end of my days."

Rose knows that voice all too well. It's the arrogant overtones that give him away even though she can't see him.

 _(Besides, there's only one person on the whole entire Earth that she send shivers down her spine with just a few simple words.)_

 _(And she hates him for it)._

Rose forces one bleary eye open to see Scorpius Malfoy leaning – SHIRTLESS (what a hussy) – against the doorframe, cup of what she assumes is coffee held languidly in one hand as he smirks down at her where she is sprawled on the floor. She might be mortified if she could find the energy for it. She's pretty certain her energy has skipped town with her dignity. They've been on the way out for a while now, not entirely surprising really.

Scorpius Malfoy was the kind of guy that Rose simultaneously wanted to punch – repeatedly – but also bang – repeatedly. It was mighty frustrating. She used to be able to reign it in when they were opposing team captains in the International Quiddith League, but they had recently both been selected for England's representative side in the World Cup…Ok, so maybe it was a little more complicated than that. Like maybe Rose had been appointed Captain ( _squee!_ ), and Scorpius hadn't made the cut to be one of the first beaters and had instead been delegated to reserve. And maybe – just maybe – Rose had kind of used all of her Captain-y powers to sway the decision and have him appointed to named squad, because despite how much she hated him – and she really truly hated him and his damn perfect cheekbones – the selection panel were only looking at sheer brute force in their Beaters, which just wasn't smart play. Scorpius might not have had the most dominant swing on the circuit, but he was the most accurate, and could clearly knock a guy or girl off their broom with one well-timed, perfectly aimed hit, regardless of their balance or skill. So yeah, Rose had kind of fought for him. Not that he would ever be allowed to know that. In fact she had made several nasty threats to the selection panel to ensure the secret never got out. He'd never mentioned it, and had continued to act as his usual arrogant self in the weeks following, so it could be safely assumed her secret was safe.

 _The point was_ that she was mildly regretting her decision now that it meant she spent at least five mornings a week training with him and putting up with his stupid, arrogant ( _cunning, sexy – NO!)_ body on a virtually daily basis. Not to mention the nighttime meetings discussing strategies and partaking in painstakingly boring team-building exercises. Being that close to someone you wanted to violently assault but also have maddeningly good hate-sex with so frequently was not good for anyone's mental health, least of all Rose's. Why? Why did he have to be so infuriatingly good at his job that she just _had_ to have him on the team?

That wasn't the most pressing question at current though. No, no. The most pressing question was a very simple one:

 _Why is Scorpius Malfoy in my apartment?_

Rose tries to vocalize that thought but instead all that comes out is a garbled " _wha-funkle-GARB!"_ as she descends into a spluttering mess and hacks up what may be what's left of her liver. This only causes Scorpius' smirk to spread a bit wider.

"Ah Rose Weasley, eloquent as ever even when barfing up a lung."

Rose scowls at him, but she suspects the intensity is lost slightly due to her not being able to open her eyes completely anyway. She clears her throat of whatever monstrosity is stuck to the walls of her esophagus, and tries again.

"Why are you in my bathroom?"

She sounded like an 80 year old man who'd smoked 3 packs a day since birth, but at least the words made sense. Rose is not impressed with the snort and brightening smile she gets in response.

"I'm not."

Rose wants to retort with something extremely sarcastic and stinging, but she's too distracted by the way his smile lights up the whole goddam room and makes her stomach drop in a way that she really wishes she could attribute to her arguably excessive intake of alcohol. Instead she just makes a sound not unlike that of a dying animal.

And the smile gets bigger.

 _Stupidly talented attractive ass-shat.._

"Welcome to my home Wealsey," he purrs as he takes a sip of his coffee, "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Which is goddam impossible considering she's on the goddam floor. She attempts the glare again but instead just closes her eyes. It makes things mildly better. She feels herself somehow drifting back off to sleep which may in fact just be her passing out from pain, dreaming of days in the sun, flying through the air on her broom, and, most importantly, those seemingly distant memories of when she wasn't incapacitated by a monstrous hangover.

Wait a minute. She's in Scorpius Malfoy's home. The belly of the beast. Behind enemy lines. The Lion's den. Or more appropriately, the Snake's…whatever a snake lives in. A hole? Yes, the Snake's Hole. Holy fucking shit.

 _Damn your worthless soul to hell Past Rose! Curse you for breathing!_

"So," Infuriatingly Attractive Dickwad interrupts her sweet dreams once more, "What did you want to tell me?"

Rose tries her best to comprehend that sentence – she really does – but nothing comes to mind.

"What?"

Something in Scorpius' eyes soften into an expression that – if she didn't know from years of Quidditch rivalry that he didn't have a soul – she may have called disappointment. It's gone before she can really decide what it meant, and chalks the confusion up to hangover-induced hallucinations.

"Last night when you almost broke down my door, you exclaimed rather loudly that you needed to tell me something."

"Didn't I tell you when you let me in?"

"No, you were rather preoccupied,"

 _Please spare me the details and just leave it at that_.

"…By throwing up all over my front door step."

 _Oh fuck._

Rose has a deep-rooted hatred for Scorpius that began when her father first warned her about him on Platform 9 ¾ when she was eleven. That hatred intensified when he set her hair on fire in third year, and then exploded when they were named opposing Quidditch Captains for their respective houses (Gryffindor and Slytherin) in 7th year, and only became all the more encompassing now that they Captained their own teams and faced off against each other on the professional circuit.

( _And then that hatred kind of bloomed and blossomed into other feelings that had her damn Weasley genes betraying her and lighting her face up like a fucking Christmas tree and her downstairs fun-zone waking up whenever his name was mentioned. Which in turn just kind of morphed into more hatred because no one gets Rose hot and bothered without her permission)._

But despite her hatred, she never planned on throwing up on his doorstep. This was a whole new level of mortifying.

Rose makes the sound of a dying animal again and tries her best to cease to exist. She isn't successful.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs and tries her goddam best to not sound like she's about to cry. Because she will not cry in front of Scorpius Malfoy. _She won't_. No matter how humiliated she is.

There's an awkward silence during which both of them try to ignore the fact that the unflappable Rose Weasley – proud captain of the Hollyhead Harpies, Seeker and all-around badass – is so close to tears. She gathers her composure – _woman-up Weasley! –_ and tilts her hair so she can glare at him again.

"I was probably coming to yell at you about that illegal move you pulled during yesterday's game."

Scorpius scoffed indignantly and let out a groan, "For the last time it was _not_ illegal!"

And just like that, not even the horrid hangover as a result of drinking so much that she may have actually displaced her stomach through the course of her relentless vomiting, could hold down Rose's will to argue, "You instructed your second beater to _deliberately_ target our keeper –!"

"As we are within our rights to do –"

" _Simultaneously_ and _well_ beyond the scope of what can be considered good sportsmanship –"

" _Puh-lease!_ We are the Falmouth Falcons Rose – sportsmanship isn't exactly in our repertoire."

"Which forced Whipshaw out of the match – with a suspected _broken pelvis_ , you get how serious that is right?"

"Hey! Don't blame me for your Keeper's inability to dodge. That's like basic maneuvering 101."

"So what was he supposed to do? Maneuver and let you get the goal you were clearly setting up, which would have got you the win –"

"What you're describing is strategy, not cheating."

"You're a bunch of thugs!"

"Yes but we're thugs that are well above you in Championship points."

" _Only because of the cheating!"_

" _Strategy_. Come on Rosie, that bitter taste in your mouth isn't only the thousand or so firewhiskeys you must have downed – I'd say a lot of that is good old fashion jealousy." He does that damn smirking thing again, and it causes her stomach to do that silly flip-flop thing again.

 _Curse him to the inner most pits of fiery hell._

"I did not have a thousand…" At least she's pretty sure she didn't. Surely if she had she would be dead. And despite how awful she feels right now, she is at least 76.5% sure she isn't dead. Scorpius raises a condescending eyebrow and takes a large sip of coffee. Glorious, glorious coffee that she had become addicted to on one of her trips to America during the international Quiddith trials. No matter how awful she feels, Rose is pretty sure coffee could help revive her. If she could keep it down. And that's a big if.

She must have been staring longingly at his cup of coffee because he sighs loudly and smirks at her a little.

"Would you like me to make you a cup of coffee, Rose? Or perhaps a pint?"

It is embarrassing how close she is to crying tears of joy at the offer. She doesn't trust herself not to squeak if she attempts speech, so instead she lets her lip quiver and nods quickly. Scorpius smiles down at her and her stomach does a stunning gymnast routine of many flips and turns and spins that would have earned her a perfect ten from the Russian judge.

 _Stupid treacherous stomach_.

"Think you can make it to the kitchen or should I deliver?" he's looking all smug again, _like always_ , and if he hadn't just offered her coffee and if she could lift herself off this floor she'd be sorely tempted to punch him. Instead she just tries to glare again as he continues to say, "I warn you, there is a freight charge."

"Oh really?" her voice cracks embarrassingly on the last syllable but she just keeps going and pretends it never happened, "And what would that cost be?"

He smiles broadly, "I'm _so_ glad you asked."

Scorpius disappears from the doorway and she hears him shuffling around in his room for a while, apparently looking for something.

She prays it's not a condom, because she really isn't physically up to that right now.

And she would never consider sleeping with Scorpius Malfoy.

Ever.

Because she hates him.

Yeah.

 _Although if the coffee was_ _really_ _good….NO ROSE!_

Rose is saved from the ramblings of her inner monologue by a most unwelcome sound – the unmistakable buzz of a camera flash. Rose opens her eyes marginally further again and sees Scorpius Malfoy lowering his camera to smirk again.

"There – freight charge covered!" He drops his weight against the doorframe and Rose is way too angry and mortified at him to find him sexy. Not that she would anyway. Because she hates him and big stupid beautiful face.

 _Wait, what? Beautiful?!_

 _Fuck you hungover Rose. You're bloody crazy._

"For that photo will be priceless!" His face splits into in a genuine smile as Rose tries, feebly and _too darn late princess_ , to right her skirt that is sitting somewhere up under her armpits and therefore giving him a stunning view of her mid-drift and the not-at-all-sexy sucker-inner undies required to pull off such a form-fitting article of clothing.

She must find and destroy that photo immediately!

And when she says immediately, she means as soon as she is no longer dying.

So maybe in like a month. Or six.

"I hate you," she croaks, giving up on the skirt that's apparently taken it upon itself to become a second, more uncomfortable bra because that is exactly what she needs in her life right now, "I know that I say that a lot, but I really want you to know that I really, _truly_ , hate you."

Scorpius' face softens to something genuine, before morphing into a look that suggests he knows a joke she's not privy to. He walks towards what Rose assumes is his kitchen before calling out, "No you don't!"

But she does. She really, _really_ does.

Except for when he brings her coffee, a cushion and a blanket a few moments later. Then she doesn't hate him. She's still not thrilled with his existence, but she doesn't hate him. Not quite.

* * *

 _Part two will hopefully not take too long, maybe a week or two. I'm pretty excited to get the Scorpius POV piece up asap because, like with_ Excuses, _I like his bits better I think. Anyways, please review, they really do make my day._

 _All my love_


	2. Scorpius Malfoy's Roof

_Ok, so I don't mean to alarm you but AN UPDATE WITHIN TWO DAYS?! WHAAAAA?! IS THIS CRAZY OR WHAT?! I'm just so excited that while I have any kind of drive and inspiration I'm gunna try to just keep smashing things out, coz I'm excited about this piece and it's companion so I want to share it with you lovely folks as soon as possible. And I tell you what, there is nothing more inspiring than posting a story one night and waking up the next day with over 80 email notifications – you bunch of crazy cats!_

 _On that note – to anyone that reviewed, especially you kind souls who wished me well with my recovery and my health, THANK YOU. You have absolutely no idea how much your words mean to me. You have kept a smile on my face for days now, and that is no small feat. You all inspire me and help to keep me going, I really cannot thank you enough. I'm hoping that I'll be able to reply to as many reviews as possible because I feel like I owe you all that, you magnificent creatures. All my love!_

 _Anyways, here's the next chappie (which, surprise surprise, somehow became a lot bigger than I had planned. Whoops). Enjoy!_

 _Disclaimer: as before, these characters are not mine._

* * *

 ** _2\. Scorpius Malfoy's Roof_**

The first thought Rose has is to tell the bird that is currently plucking at her hair to _cease and desist_ before she plucks every feather from its tiny defenceless body.

It takes her a solid 3.2 seconds to realise rather than being the symptom of a(nother) killer hangover, the feeling of a bird attacking her head is due to the fact that _there is a goddam bird nesting in her hair_.

"What the f-AH!" Rose stands quickly before promptly falling on her ass and sliding down whatever slippery and uneven surface she finds herself on. She clutches wildly at her surroundings and tries to dig her heels into the surface, all the while dealing with the squawking bird that she's apparently very disrespectfully disturbed during her poor display of balance. With her eyes closed due to them not yet functioning properly ( _thanks sun, for completely disregarding my hangover. Asshole._ ), she can't see a thing as she clutches wildly around her whilst doing a smashing job of imitating the squawking bird in her hair. After the most horrifying 2 seconds of her life, Rose is able to halt her decent ( _to what is assumedly hell_ ) and take a breath. Now that she had successfully evaded death, she was ready to ask the important questions.

Where was she?

 _Where the fuck was she?_

In a way that was much to eerily reminiscent of the last time Rose drank so much she lost her memory, an all too familiar, much too arrogant voice calls to her, "Morning Rosie!"

No. _No. NO._

There was no way in hell she had let this happen again.

Upon opening her eyes, Rose looks around and realizes she can't see the bane of her existence in all his sexy sexiness ( _Shut UP libido!)_. What she can see is sky, rooftops, and tiles. It's then that it hits her – she's on a goddam roof. And she is willing to bet it isn't her own.

Rose inches closer to the edge of the rooftop until she can get a glimpse of the ground. And surprise, surprise, there stands Scorpius Malfoy, shirtless (again), nursing a steaming cup of coffee (again), and smirking (like always). Which leads her to the only possible, semi-logical conclusion – she's on Scorpius Malfoy's roof.

How the hell did she get here?

Rose voices her thought, which only makes Jerky McJerkson's smirk grow.

"You don't remember, darling?"

She really doesn't enjoy how much he seems to be saying that to her lately. Or the fact that he's started calling her 'darling' ( _except that she really doesn't mind that at all really)._ She wants to refute his obnoxious statement, to tell him she remembers everything perfectly _fine_ thank you, but that would be lying and Rose is honestly completely baffled as to how she ended up on anyone's roof, let alone Scorpius Malfoy's, and she kinda really wants to know how/what happened. Apparently he doesn't take her silence as confirmation of the fact, and is going to force her to actually vocalize it. What a dick.

"Of course I do, I just asked for funsies," she congratulates herself on her superb sarcasm levels, even if she doesn't quite manage the whit she is usually equipped with. She adds an eye roll for extra effect, even though rolling her eyes skywards almost blinds her, "Now care to tell me what you did to make me end up, up here?"

He clutches his free hand over the space on his chest that masks the dark chasm that, if he were a regular person, might house his heart. But this is Scorpius Malfoy, so no such thing exists. He's probably powered solely on snark and the misfortunes of others and children's tears. Douche.

"You think that I – _moi_ – was the cause of your misfortune," he pretends to wince, but the action is completely undone by the fact that his smirk takes up his whole goddam pointy perfect face, "Rosie-Dear, you wound me!"

She ignores the stupid pet name he's started using since _The Incident_ and just glares a little harder, though it's impossible to tell the difference given that the goddam sun seems intent on blinding her so her eyes aren't all that open to begin with. Seriously – was it just her or was it like, a thousand times more sunnier today than usual? Stupid celestial body.

( _NOTE: part of the reason Rose tactfully ignores the pet names Scorpius has started using for her – including, but not limited to, 'love', 'darling', 'dear', 'pumpkin', and 'sunshine' – is because he first started using them after_ The Incident, _and Rose figured he had too much leverage over her with that damn photograph to be able to assault him for it. So she just ignored it, and continues to ignore it, because if she reacts she's sure_ The Daily Prophet _is going to have a front page spread of her ass in the least sexy pair of underwear she owns, and she simply cannot risk that. Her parents fought The Dark Lord for crying out loud, her legacy in this family will not be 'The One Who Appeared on the Front of the Paper in Granny-Undies')_

 _(Plus there might be a teeny tiny piece of Rose that kind of likes the way her toes curl when he calls her 'love'.)_

 _(A teeny, tiny_ stupid _part)._

"How the hell did I end up on your roof then, Asshole?" She basically spits the words at him and does her damned best job at crossing her arms spectacularly without simultaneously toppling off the roof, or upsetting the mentally unhinged bird still attempting to nest in her hair.

"Now, now – there's no need for that kind of language, Sweetums," _ok, there was a fucking line, and he just crossed it,_ "A simple 'please my love, tell me what transpired last night' will suffice."

"The day I call you ' _my love'_ , is the day hell freezes over."

Scorpius let a smile bloom across his face – that same sneaky ' _I know something you don't'_ look he gave her a lot last time she found herself without her memory and at his apartment. But let's not mention that, ok?

"Are you always this feisty in the morning, Rosie?" when she opens her mouth to retort he holds up a hand to stop her and _ok Mister, I don't know who you think you are but that is not how you ask Rose Weasley to be quiet,_ "Wait! Don't answer that, I'd much prefer to find out for myself with _extensive, vigorous_ testing in future."

And then he winks at her.

 _I shit you not - a motherfucking wink._

Wait.

 _Extensive?_

 _Vigorous?_

Did Scorpius Malfoy just insinuate that she, Rose Weasley, would be staying at his house ( _presumably in his bed? Or at least somewhere that wasn't the fucking roof)_ overnight so he could see her in the morning, with some of the in-between spent _doing the deed_?

WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON?!

Rose apparently stayed silent for an extended period of time and the look on her face was apparently incredibly ridiculous because the man on the ground beneath her practically starts cackling with laughter. Damn, she provided him with exactly the reaction he was looking for. _Stupid arrogant prat._

When Scorpius eventually comes back to himself, wiping the tears from his eyes mind you, he looks up at her with the same ( _glorious, butterfly-inducing, fucking infuriating)_ smile. "Oh Merlin you should see your face!"

"Well you should see your…" _abs, pectorals, cheekbones, ass…THESE ARE NOT HELPFUL INSULTS BRAIN_ , "…feet."

 _Oh the whit of Rose Weasley – it shall become a thing of legend._

Scorpius simply raises an eyebrow and deadpans, "You're hair is literally a bird's nest – you do not get to pass judgment on other people's appearance."

Rose is sorely tempted to shout a ' _don't tell me what to do!'_ at him, but she has to concede he has a point.

"Speaking of birds," her segue is terrible but she's sticking with it, "mind telling me _why the fuck_ I'm on your roof?"

He smirks and sips his coffee, "I like how you say that as if it's my fault…"

"Well I'm sure I didn't come up here all by myself!"

Actually she's not sure of that at all. In all honesty that could be exactly what she would do if she's had enough wine. And last night – a celebration of making it straight into the final of the World Cup in two months – had much wine. She remembers that Scorpius elected to host their festivities for the first time in the history of ever. Seriously, the dude was weirdly private despite being one of the biggest celebrities in England, it was like a great feat of mankind to get into his house. (She remembers Maurice, his fellow beater in the World Cup side who usually played for Appleby Arrows, making some comment about the paradoxical nature of it all – Scorpius was one of the most worshipped and well-known players in the entire competition, yet people knew next to nothing about the man himself. Maurice had his suspicions that Malfoy did it on purpose; that the mystery of being the league's enigma got him the ladies. Rose thought of the amount of duels he'd gotten into at school when people called him a Death Eater, and somehow thought that it might be for another reason entirely). So the entire World Cup side had been at Scorpius' house, and despite the season not being finished, they all conceded that perhaps a celebratory glass of fine elven wine was not out of the question.

And then they decided that rather than simply a glass or two, they probably needed a celebratory bottle. Each.

And that's about where Rose's recollection of the night's events ends.

She remembers music and dancing and twirling and laughing, and the faceless blurs of her teammates chanting at her, and all of them singing the National Anthem with pride. But other than that, the specifics on the night are completely lost on her. And she doesn't like it one bit. Namely because she's sure that said shady specifics that are currently eluding her would probably supply her with the reason that she thought Scorpius' roof was the most comfortable place to sleep. Seriously, it's even worse than the floor of his ensuite. ( _Tis a sad, sad, day that Rose Weasley actually wishes to be back where she was months beforehand when_ The Incident _occurred. Although admittedly this hangover isn't quite as bad as the last, thank the merciful heavens above)._

 _Maybe it wasn't so bad_ , she tries to reconcile with herself. Looking down at herself she's still dressed in her post-match gear ( _the very sexy ensemble of an over-sized tracksuit in England's colours – fellas please, control your erections_ ) so at least she can reasonably assume she didn't strip. Which is more than comforting – she's Team Captain, she cannot have her teammates picturing her naked when she's giving them a serve if they're not pulling their weight. And judging by the stale taste in her mouth and the lack of burning throat, Rose can also somewhat safely assume that she didn't vomit. Double-yay! So things weren't so bad. Or at least they could be worse.

 _Look for the positives Weasley, look for the positives._

Her eyes fall to Scorpius' bare chest and she would quite literally kick herself in the ass if she were that nimble – _not the positives I meant, Dipshit._

She adverts her eyes and finds herself making eye contact with Scorpius. Who totally knows she was just checking him out. He probably thinks she finds him attractive. What an arrogant ass!

 _(Just because she does find him attractive does not mean he's allowed to flaunt the fact that he knows it.)_

"Look I've had quite enough of you standing there smirking at me while I'm stuck up here on the goddam roof-!" she spreads her arms wide and looks around her. You know, in case he'd forgotten she was up here.

 _Hungover Rose, you are a genuine dumbass._

Rose freezes when she spots something both heart-warming and terrifying all at once.

There, sprouting out of Scorpius' chimney like a young sapling reaching towards the sun, is her broom.

"Hermes!" Rose scurries uneasily across the cumbersome surface to where her beloved broom sticks proudly out of the chimney, "What is poor Hermes doing up here?"

Yes, Rose named her broom after the Greek God of Travellers and Speed. And she refused to think it was silly, no matter what others said. Her broom just _looked_ like a Hermes.

"Well how did you think you got up there, Doofus?" There's something about the child-like insult that makes Rose's heart swell a little. Who called someone a doofus? Scorpius Malfoy did. And it was somehow adorable. Rose pushed it aside because really, those sought of thoughts just aren't helping anyone, and delicately removes Hermes from the chimney. He appears – _thankfully –_ unscathed. She's midway through her thorough inspection when Scorpius' words hit home.

"Wait!" she turns towards where he still stands on his lawn, watching her serenely as he sips his coffee like he's got absolutely nothing else to do with his time ( _unlike Rose, who had to deal with a few minor issues including, but not exclusive to, REMOVING THE WINGED BEAST WHO HAS TAKEN UP RESIDENCE IN HER HAIR_ ), "I flew Hermes onto your roof? Whatever was the point of that?"

Scorpius shrugs and Rose can tell he's trying incredibly hard to suppress a smile. Dick.

"I don't think you really flew him _onto the roof_ , per se," he nods towards the patch of sky behind Rose as he smirks into his coffee, "I'd call it more of a 'crash-landing'…"

Rose spins around and sees the faint remnants of what was clearly skywriting. And apparently, she's to thank for it.

It's not the first time Rose has been known to write something in the sky with trusty old Hermes, especially during a party. Rose had got a real kick out of using her enchanted broom to write the initials of people who she knew fancied each in hearts at parties just to make them super uncomfortable. It had been one of the highlights of her younger days. Not to mention her nieces, nephews, cousins and second cousins ( _because for some unknown reason her family felt the need to populate the entire wizarding England single-handedly)_ got a real kick out of having happy birthday messages written in the sky for them.

But this is the first time, in quite possibly ever, that Rose cannot remember/decipher what she had written. Half the letters were faded, and if she was being blatantly honest with herself, the ones that were left didn't exactly display an excellent ability in penmanship ( _or_ ' _broom-manship' as it were_ ).

There is only one word that looks remotely like an actual word. And it doesn't inspire confidence that she managed to not make an ass of herself.

"Does that say…' _scrotum'_?" she asks, more disbelief than embarrassment at this stage.

"I think it did at one stage."

 _Oh hey embarrassment, welcome to the party._

She groans, "I wrote a message in the sky about someone's _scrotum_?"

"On the bright side you did write it at some point after 2am, so I doubt anyone really noticed or cared…" he sounded much too amused for Rose's liking. It was infuriating. Rose was embarrassed, she was sore, she was tired, and she really did not want to put up with his arrogant 'mighty-than-thou' whit right now. And she decided to tell him so.

Rose spins on her heel, hands on her hips, and manages a very loud and indignant, " _Now just listen here, mister-!"_ , before all hell starts to breaks lose.

And when she says 'all hell', she is, of course, referring to the bird in her hair.

The velocity of the spin, accompanied with the unease in which she stops herself ( _stupid tiles_ ) disturbs Old Mate Feathers on top of her head and, in a fashion not dissimilar to what had occurred just minutes ago when she'd woken up, he decides to try and make a break for it by flapping wildly and pulling his talons this way and that, effectively ripping hair from Rose's head.

What transpires next happened so quickly she barely had time to think.

She lets out a loud " _Arrgggarrffullsmarch!"_ , before losing her stability entirely and sliding down the sloped rooftop, all the while All Hell The Bird is trying desperately to free itself from the cage that is Rose's wild curls, screeching what she imagines is the bird equivalent of ' _unhand me you insolent human! I shall not be foiled by your abundance of tangled head-web!'._ Her toe clips a slightly out of place tile and that is enough to send Rose flying forwards to slide down the roof face-first.

 _This is it. This is how I die. I'm going to fall off a roof with a fucking bird in my hair. In front of a shirtless Scorpius Malfoy. This will be my legacy._

 _Fuck you Cosmos, fuck you._

And just as the roof officially disappears from beneath her and accepts her fate, Rose gets smacked in the face with something really hard. And flat. And invisible?

Rose forces her eyes open to look under her and sees the ground. But here she is, just kind of…lying on the air.

( _Meanwhile Old Mate Feathers/All Hell The Bird finally makes a break for it and goes flying towards the horizon, still squawking about his dissatisfaction with humans' inability to be good nests.)_

It's too early and she's too hungover and high on adrenaline to try and comprehend what the fuck is happening, so Rose turns to the person she is sure is responsible for this mess.

Mr. 'Shirts-Are-Merely-A-Prison-For-My-Pectorals', Scorpius Malfoy.

Surprise, surprise – he's smirking.

"What?" Scorpius asks with a bemused expression, "You really think I'd let you sleep on my roof without _something_ in place to ensure you didn't fall off? We may not be best friends, Rosie, but I'm not plotting your death."

She finds that way too endearing to be healthy – _he doesn't want you dead; that is not the same as a grand declaration of love. Get a grip Weasley._

 _(Not that you'd want a grand declaration of love anyway. Because you don't want Scorpius Malfoy to love you.)_

 _(Because that would be awkward. Because you don't love him.)_

 _(At all.)_

 _(_ _ **Liar**_ _.)_

Rose looks at the ground beneath her, the sheen of the barely-visible barrier now obvious. She's still too high to jump, and she has no idea how far this platform extends out, so even though she's not on the roof she's still, you know, _not_ on the ground. And that's obviously a problem.

She looks at the man whom she is still blaming for this entire mess ( _his cheekbones alone hint at dark magic because nothing is that perfect without being illegally magically enhanced_ ), and lets out an indignant huff.

"And how am I expected to get down?"

"You've a broom, don't you?"

….aaaaaand now she felt like a bigger dumbass. _How dare he make her feel stupid?! What gall! If she wasn't so distracted by his stupidly shirtless body or so disastrously hungover then maybe she'd be able to think straight. It's entirely his fault really, when you thought about it._

She stands awkwardly – in a manner that is not dissimilar to a newborn foal – and sniffs the air indignantly, pointedly looking anywhere but at Scorpius Dickius and his perfect hair.

But just as Rose is about to summon Hermes from where she dropped him on the roof, All Mate Feathers decides that he wasn't quite done with his torture, and comes swooping back to express his displeasure at Rose's attempt to trap him one more _forceful_ time.

With an almighty ' _CRACAWWW!'_ Old Mate Feathers/Satan's Budgie swoops Rose, very narrowly missing her hair. The movement alone, however, is damaging enough.

Startled and much too sore to react properly, Rose forgets she's on a floating platform, steps back whilst swinging her arms to avoid the bird dive-bombing her head, and promptly topples off the ledge.

With (another) scream, Rose falls into the not-at-all-comfortable hedges that line Scorpius' house, and rolls back over her head onto the lawn, ass in the air and head somewhere between her knees.

Rose honestly cannot decide if this is more or less humiliating than the underwear photo. _Let's just call it a draw._

She takes a moment to make sure all her limbs are accounted for and largely unharmed, and it's only after that that she hears it. The howling.

Scorpius is laughing so hysterically that he has literally collapsed onto his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. He's braced his hands on the lawn, cup of coffee dropped somewhere behind him ( _sacrilege!_ ), and he is howling with laughter, taking greedy breaths of air whenever he is physically able, just so he can then start howling once more.

 _What a lubberwort!_

 _(Although she's fairly sure she's never heard anything quite so lovely)_.

He peeks through the hair that's fallen in his face to look at her, sees her scowl at him, ass still in air and knees framing her cheekbones, and loses it all over again. Rose does her best to ignore it as she rolls to her side and does her best not to wince when she tries to stand. She's only mildly successful.

By the time she's taken the twigs out of her hair and is actually standing straight again, Scorpius has managed to pick himself off the ground and meander his way over to her. She looks up at him, still scowling, and really hates that her stomach continues to do the flip-floppy thing every time he looks at her like this.

 _He has teeth and can move his facial muscles in the manner required to smile, Libido, GET OVER IT._

"Oh Rosie," he breathes, tears are still in his eyes from laughing so hard – _and he looks beautiful_ , "what am I going to do with you?"

 _Anything you goddamn please._

 _SHUT IT LIBIDO!_

Scorpius wordlessly summons' Hermes, effortlessly wrapping his hand around it as it glides to him.

Rose can't be positive, but she's pretty damn sure she's never seen anything sexier.

She takes Hermes back without uttering a single syllable because quite frankly, with how her and her down-stairs fun-zone are feeling right now, she'd probably just up and proposition him to a round of bumping uglies on the lawn.

 _And that is bad! Because sex with teammates is bad! And you don't even_ _like __Scorpius Malfoy! You can't have sex with someone you don't even like! Right….RIGHT?!_

He's still smiling and she honestly can't decide whether that or the sun is more blinding.

"You look like you need breakfast," he says, not smirking, but _smiling._

Rose nods because yes, yes she does need breakfast.

"And coffee."

Rose nods so hard that she almost dislocates her head. Scorpius beams at her and nods towards his front door.

"Ok Weasley, let's cure these hangovers." How come when Rose was hungover she ended up sleeping on a roof, but when Scorpius was hungover he just got little bags under his eyes? That was all kinds of unfair. _Stupid perfect ass-wipe._

Rose makes to move past him, but as soon as she raises her leg she is struck by an intense pain that shoots right across her buttock. She winces and grabs at her ass cheek before she can think better of it. Because there is no way he didn't see that. Rose glances up at him to see what she thinks may have once been concern bleed away and be replaced entirely by amusement.

He starts, "Don't tell me-"

"Fine then I won't!" she stomps past him, limping heavily because _Dear Sweet Merlin her ass hurt! Stupid hedge!_

He catches up to her in two graceful steps, happily indulging in the view of Rose rubbing the developing bruise on her ass.

"I could take a look at that, you know," he looks far too pleased with himself, "to make sure nothing's broken."

 _Don't tempt me, boy._

Rose shoves him with her shoulder and really wishes she could hate him for being so flirty. Because they don't do flirty. Because she's not even sure if they're friends, and she definitely isn't sure if their… _more_ than that, and she's pretty sure she should be sure of at least one, if not both of those things before they can be openly flirty with each other. So she should hate him for confusing her, she just can't though. He snickers to himself and throws an arm around her shoulders ( _ok, since when did they do that?_ ).

Scorpius drops his head closer to her ear and she can hear the smile in his voice, "I could even kiss it better."

That earns him an elbow to the solar plexus and at least that makes him wince.

And then he's laughing again.

And so is she.

And _how_ _dare he make her feel happy when she feels this shit?! What a dick!_

Rose spends the morning eating croissants, reading _The Daily Prophet_ , and drinking coffee across from where Scorpius Malfoy reads _Quidditch Weekly_ , each of them reciting stats and critiquing the articles as they fight off their mutual hangovers.

It's too comfortable, it 's too _natural._

And that was the moment that Rose realised she was definitely too far-gone for her own good.

* * *

 _I know – vagueness. Trust me, everything will make sense when you get to read Scorpius' POV, but I'm a little afraid it will ruin the ending of Rose's if you can read them both at once, so you'll just have to hang on for a moment if you're scratching your head about what exactly transpired to have Rose on the roof._

 _Next chapter will not be up in a matter of days, but hopefully won't take too long. I seriously cannot thank you all enough for your words and wishes._

 _All my love!_


	3. Krum Quidditch Rehabilitation Facility

_Hey peeps! Not as quick updating this chapter, but still relatively quickly by my standards. Forcing out this chapter was like pulling teeth, so it's not at the same standard as the previous two, but it's a necessary evil to get to the final part. Hope you still manage to enjoy it a bit. And just incase I haven't explained it clearly enough in this shot (again, Scorpius' POV story will clear a lot of the vagueness up), 'The Krum Rehabilitation Facility' is a special hospital dedicated to the rehabilitation and recovery of Quidditch players from all over the world. And yes, I named it after Victor Krum because I am lazy._

 _Surprise, surprise, this got a shit-load bigger than I anticipated. Classic Grae. Also it gets a bit angsty towards the end there, so if you're after a more laid-back hospital story check out my oneshot '_ The Hospital Bed Monologues' _which is essentially a very similar set up but funnier (I apologise for the shameless plug)._

 _Also, just for your own imagination, I picture Maurice as pretty much a young Idris Elba (things that make you go 'mmmmmm'). You know, just so you can imagine the contrast. Anyways, on with the show._

 _ **Disclaimer:** same as previous chapters. _

* * *

_**3\. Bed No. 3125, The Krum Quidditch Rehabilitation Facility**_

Rose is having sweet dreams of the wind in her hair and the sun in her eyes. She's soaring over treetops, flying on her beloved Hermes, weaving in and out of clouds with the birds at her heels. She smiles at the feeling of floating and freedom. She could stay here forever.

It starts slowly, the odd sensation that has no right in forcing its way into her dreams. Slowly but surely, her body in engulfed by a dull ache. She frowns – _this is not how dreams go brain, sort your shit out._

And then the world is spinning and she's not flying anymore; this is definitely falling. The ache intensifies and a fear spreads through her bones – something isn't right. Her stomach drops, she clenches her muscles against her better judgment and wills herself to wake up before she lands.

When she first opens her eyes all she notices is light. Its bright and blinding and everywhere.

 _Someone turn off the damn sun!_

Her immediate assumption is that she's waking up to another horrid hangover. But there's no stale taste of alcohol in her mouth, and she's tucked very tightly into whatever bed she's found herself in – which definitely isn't hers. She groans because _everything is ouch and why aren't I in my own bed?_

Her eyes are taking much too long to adjust for her liking, making her unease worse. There's a weight on her hand – _something holding her hand? –_ so she squeezes to see what it is exactly. The thing squeezes back.

 _Oh, it's a hand. Someone is holding my hand._

 _Who is holding my hand?!_

The only thing that settles her is the very familiar voice that greats her groan.

"Rosie?" Scorpius Malfoy asks softly, his voice unusually tentative.

 _That is exactly the voice I want to wake up to. Every. Damn. Day._

Rose's eyes come into focus and she finally gets a good look at him, standing over her and staring at her like she's just pulled the sun out of her ass, his hand holding hers where it rests on the mystery bed.

He looks like shit.

Well as much like shit he's capable of looking.

He looks like he hasn't shaved in days, with weird patches of hair growing at different rates and shades all over his chin ( _no wonder he's never attempted a beard_ ), and his hair is greasy with clearly defined finger tracks running from the crown of his head to the back. There are black circles under his eyes and he looks as if he hasn't slept in days. His Quidditch robes are crumpled and creased too.

Wait. Why is he wearing Quidditch robes? This isn't the stadium. It's a big white room, which is neither her bedroom nor his ( _unfortunately)_ , but she's definitely in _a_ bed. Which poses a very important question she intends to ask as soon as she's established her voice still works.

"Rosie?" he asks again, almost as if he's afraid he's seeing things. She swallows and manages to croak out her question.

"Where am I?"

There's a brief moment that his face lights up out of sheer joy - she can't remember seeing him so happy, or relieved - before he remembers she asked him a question.

"The Krum Facility," comes his answer.

Well, that doesn't seem right.

"But that's for people that…" she stops short and comes to a horrifying realization, "I was injured during the game?"

He nods, a little hesitant, something clearly playing on his mind. She still hasn't quite gotten over the fact that he's holding her hand, and the way his thumb keeps brushing over the skin on her knuckles is all kinds of distracting and…soothing…and…

Rose's head lulls onto the pillow but as soon as her cheek makes contact with the material she darts back up again – she needs answers, and Rose has never been known for her patience, so she wants them now. She blinks rapidly, eventually making eye contact with Scorpius who for once isn't smirking, he's not even smiling; he just looks really worried. Like _really_ worried. Like someone get the boy a chair because he may be about to pass out.

"Are you alright?" she asks, voice still croaky from lack of use. That manages to crack his features, a smile eventually making its way across his face (although it doesn't escape Rose's attention that the warmth of his smile doesn't reach his eyes). He lets out a huff that, were the situation a little less tense, might have become a laugh.

"Incredible," he murmurs in disbelief, running his free hand through his hair(from the look of the pretty permanent streaks, he's apparently done that a bit recently), "You're the one in hospital, and you're asking if _I'm_ alright. Just…incredible."

"Technically you're in hospital too."

"I'm not the one in the bed though, am I?"

She blames her next words on the varying amount of potions and elixirs currently streaming through her body.

"Feel free to join me."

Rose is a little bit mortified. In fact she's sure she'd be a lot more mortified if she had less of the aforementioned substances coursing through her veins. She's surprisingly relaxed, despite it all.

The second hint that perhaps Scorpius is actually legitimately injured or unwell comes in the immediate aftermath of her comment. Ever since she accidentally ended up staying the night on his roof ( _speaking of, she's still completely in the dark about how, exactly she ended up on the roof or what, exactly, she decided to write in the sky. Not even her teammates will enlighten her, they just continue to smile and say incredibly unhelpful things like '_ You'll have to ask Lover-boy!' _, which is their totally unjustified nickname for Scorpius. The only upside is that he seems to hate it),_ Rose and Scorpius have been a little bit more amiable than they used to be. And by a little bit, she means a lot.

Like, _a lot_ a lot _._

Like 'calling-each-other-pet-names-in-a-sarcastic-way' amiable.

And 'sitting-next-to-each-other-at-meetings' amiable.

And 'pinching-each-other-under-the-table-at-said-meetings' amiable.

And yes, they might have even gotten to be a bit flirty. Scorpius is normally ( _read: always)_ the instigator, and Rose often just replies with an insult, but its in jest and it pretty much always ends up with them laughing. And he might linger a little too long when they say goodbye at the end of trainings, and she might take every opportunity she gets to pair up with him when they're doing drills. And maybe he happens to 'accidentally' bump into her as he walks out of the change rooms still buttoning up his shirt sometimes. And maybe she sometimes walks right into the men's change room when she's stuck by a particularly ingenious idea and maybe sometimes accidentally does so while wearing hot pants. And maybe he winks at her. And maybe she brushes her hand across his lower back when she passes him.

And when she says 'maybe', what she really means is all of that definitely happens. All the goddam time.

Basically, it would not be unexpected that Rose would make such a comment, its just unusual that she would make it before he did.

What _is_ unusual, and her cause for concern, is that he doesn't respond. Well no, he does respond, but all he does is crinkle his eyebrows in a way that would suggest he's in some kind of pain, and slowly swallows to compose himself.

 _Oh great, flirting with him is literally causing him pain. You are such a babe, Rose Weasley._

He drops his eyes from her gaze and stays staring at the bed covers. Also his thumb has stopped drawing patterns on the back of her hand. That depresses her more than it should.

"What is the last thing you remember?" he lets it out in one breath, as if he has to get it out quickly to avoid repercussions. The whole thing is entirely odd and Rose doesn't like it at all.

Pushing feelings of unease aside, she ponders his question. She is absolutely horrified at the answer.

"Arriving at the arena…" she looks off into nothingness as it hits her, "The last thing I remember…I can't. I can't remember. Oh God. I captained a World Cup Team and I can't even remember putting on my robes!"

She can't stop it.

She simply _cannot_ stop it.

Rose starts crying.

It's not the graceful weeping of Grandma Granger's favourite muggle movies. It's not the silent tears she's seen fall down her own mother's cheeks at memorial rallies. No – it is loud, vulgar, completely uncontrollable wailing. Her shoulders shake violently as she opens the floodgates and let out more tears than she thought it was even possible for one person to hold. She snorts. She splutters. She has snot actually running into her mouth. She can taste her own nose mucus.

 _My Merlin, you are disgusting – SHUT UP SELF-RESPECT, I AM HAVING A MOMENT._

There's a weight on her shoulders and a dip in her bed, and it takes her a moment to hear the gentle shushing, but there it is all the same. Rose opens her eyes and blearily looks up to see where Scorpius has actually joined her in bed, wrapped her up and held her as close as possible without dislodging her too much. He looks a little bit like he's about to cry too so she doesn't feel so bad.

 _Note to self: snot-mouth-crying coaxes Scorpius Malfoy to climb into bed with you. This could be useful further down the track._

"I know it's disappointing, Rosie," he says softly, trying to smile and failing quite spectacularly ( _it's probably the first time he's ever failed anything. Apart from beard-growing_ ), "But another four years and you'll have your chance to shine again. It's not that far away, you'll do it."

She snuggles a little closer to him ( _because she's seeking comfort from missing out on the World Cup Final – THAT'S ALL GUYS)_ and sniffles, ignoring the pain in her everything as she does so. "But I won't be Captain in four years."

"There is no way of knowing that," he rubs her shoulder reassuringly without applying too much pressure, which she's grateful for because it kinda hurts but that does not mean she wants him to stop, "If you play anywhere near as good as you did in the Final then they'll have no choice but to appoint you Captain."

She cranes her neck back to look at him ( _and that hurts too goddmit!_ ), and smiles brightly. "I played well?"

Scorpius smiles back at her and its glorious and she's well beyond caring about the flippy-floppy stomach habits now; she just kind of accepts them.

"You played splendidly," he says in response, warmth in his tone and his eyes.

 _And the light bulb comes on._

Rose suddenly notices that they are really close. Like, _incredibly close._ Reclining on the bed removes a lot of their height difference so she is – for possibly the first time ever – actually face to face with Scorpius Malfoy. She notices little things, like the scar just above his eyebrow that she's a little scared to ask how he got, or the exact degree of dimple in his chin, or how his eyes have such varied tones of silver and blue that they look almost ethereal.

 _He really is beautiful._

 _And he's looking at me._

He's looking her in the eye and he looks more scared then she's ever seen him before. It's a momentary glance, when he drops his eyes to her mouth, but it's enough. She returns the glance, drops her eyes to his mouth as if to confirm – _yes, I want it too._ Rose feels as much as sees his head edge forwards and she can't look him in the eye because _holy Merlin, this is actually going to happen…_

"Well hello Lovers!"

Maurice – all 6'3" of him – stands in the doorway, smile wide, eyes mischievous, and a rather sad looking bunch of flowers in his hand.

Scorpius springs back from her so far and quickly it would almost be comical if it didn't hurt her pride quite as much as it did. His arm isn't around her anymore, instead it's awkwardly squashed between her side and his, and he's leaning as far towards the side of the bed as he possibly can. It's as if she's got some abhorrent disease that he's only now realized is contagious. Rose coughs out a laugh ( _which hurts, because what fucking doesn't at this stage?)_ and tries to diffuse the awkward.

"That's...we're…" she doesn't know what to say. ' _I was hoping to snog my team mate here so I could eventually find out what, exactly, he tastes like covered in chocolate syrup'_ seems incredibly inappropriate, despite being the truth. A lie is probably the safer way to go; Maurice is smirking enough already, she doesn't want to provide fuel to that flame, "This isn't anything. Scorpius was just…"

She's saved from finishing that sentence by Maurice's laugh.

"Oh I wasn't talking about this," he gestures back and forth between where Rose and Scorpius sit, still close, even though Scorpius appears to be physically attempting to become one with the bed frame, "Although that it adorable, you two cuties. No, I was referring to-"

"Rose hasn't seen the paper yet," Scorpius cuts him off quickly with force, and if Rose didn't know better, she'd say he was trying to set Maurice alight with only the power of his gaze, "She doesn't understand your reference."

"But –"

"I hadn't showed it to her yet," Scorpius vaults out of bed and Rose tells herself it doesn't make her sad, "Because we're too busy dealing with the fact that Rose doesn't remember anything from the day of the Final. I didn't want to bombard her with anything."

And Rose would like to point out that she's still here, so if people could stop talking about her like she's _not fucking present_ that would be greaaaaat. Before she can glare too hard at Scorpius, she notices that Maurice is looking at her with a particularly pained expression – like he can't quite believe what he's hearing.

"You mean…" he pauses, looking back and forth between Rose and Scorpius again, "You mean you don't remember _anything_? Not even what happened _before_ the game?"

Rose manages to hold down another round of splutter-mouth-snot-wail-crying by sheer force of will alone ( _speaking of, does she still have snot running into her mouth? OH HOLY FUCK SHE HAS SNOT TRAILS LEADING TO HER MOUTH! TWO OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SPECIMENS OF MEN CAN SEE THAT SHE'S EATEN HER OWN SNOT. DEAR MERLIN KILL HER NOW._ )

( _Note to Merlin – please don't kill her now. She's not yet tasted Scorpius Malfoy covered in chocolate syrup. Therefore she's just not ready to die yet._ )

 _(At this rate that will never happen so she never will be ready to die. Here's to immortality!)_

Rose manages a sad smile and had she strength in her shoulders she would have shrugged, "Nope. Can't even remember putting on my robes. I'm shattered – I bet I gave a kick-ass speech right? I'd practiced for months!"

She tries to make a joke out of it, although she can't help but notice Maurice isn't even looking at her; instead, he's staring at Scorpius.

And if she didn't know better, she'd say Maurice almost looked sorry for him.

 _Um, excuse me, but did Scorpius Malfoy get injured and forget he captained a World Cup side? No. So Rose was having a pretty hard time thinking up a situation wherein he was somehow more deserving of sympathy than she was._

There's some kind of telepathic communication going on between the two beaters that Rose dearly wishes she was involved with, but can tell they're not saying something in front of her for a reason. Scorpius gives a very subtle shake of his head and Maurice seems to let whatever it was they were silently conversing about slide for now. Maurice looks back at Rose and forces a smile that a blind man would be able to tell was fake.

"Yeah, Rosie," _everyone called her that now (Scorpius was still the only one that called her Darling),_ "Your speech was amazing."

He shoots Scorpius a _look_ , "It got us all fired up."

He strides into the room and comes to stand at the opposite side of the bed to Scorpius, who's now taken up an apparent interest in the windowsill. Maurice places a bouquet of flowers on the side table and the whole atmosphere is so damn uncomfortable Rose would physically excuse herself if she could move.

"So," she says in an attempt to diffuse the unease, "What's this I hear about a newspaper?"

Scorpius makes a visible move for the first time since he vaulted off the bed ( _its still kind of warm from where he left it – GOOD GOD WEASLEY GET IT TOGETHER_ ), when he dives towards her other side table and snatches something off it. He waves the item – a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ that she assumes is the offensive edition in question – above his head triumphantly.

"A-ha!" he cries with glee, smirking at Maurice and looking much too much like a schoolboy who got the last chocolate frog in Honeydukes to be healthy for a man of his age, "I've got it! And you're not showing her!"

Maurice just smirks back and digs one large hand into the inside of his jacket. Scorpius pales a little more.

( _It's only when she looks between the two of them that Rose realises how incredibly opposite they are. On the one hand you have Scorpius – pale, blonde, lithe, and descendent of aristocracy in it's purest form which manifests in every one of his graceful movements and actions. On the other you have Maurice – pushing 6' 3", shoulders about three feet wide, who grew up poor in Sierra Leone for a large part of his childhood, with movements that, whilst always confident, don't always appear stable. They shouldn't work as a team of Beaters, but, somehow, they compliment each other perfectly. Funny how that works)_

"No worry," the large white smile spreads across Maurice's attractive features as he reveals what Rose assumes is another copy of that problematic newspaper, "I bought my own."

Maurice looks down at Rose, unable to sweep the smile from his face as he opens the paper with a flourish.

"Here you are Rosie!" he lays the paper out on her lap (protectively shoving Scorpius back when he makes a grab for it), "Proof that you were well protected every second you've spent here."

Rose looks down at the photo on the front page of _The Prophet_ , clearly taken from inside the room at the end of her bed, a little unsure of what, precisely to make of it. It shows her lying in the bed, completely unconscious and side of her head bandaged very extensively, the bruising and swelling obvious even in the sepia-toned photograph. There's all sorts of things floating above her head that are no longer around her, some of them attached to various parts of her head, some hooked into other appendages, others just kind of circling ominously, apparently on stand-by ( _in case she spontaneously combusts? It's all a little excessive really)_. It's mildly terrifying to see the bad condition she was in, and suddenly Scorpius' reaction to seeing her wake up is justified.

Speaking of Scorpius…

The reason she believes Maurice believes is cause to draw her attention to the photograph is because, sitting beside her, chair pressed as closely to the side of her bed as physically possible, is Scorpius. He's still wearing his Quidditch robes and Rose can see his broom tucked in the corner of the room (it's gone now), suggesting he came directly from the match. He's got his eyes closed, head facing towards her as he sleeps, not at all peacefully if the semi-pained expression on his face is anything to go by. And sitting there, just like this morning, is his hand, clutching her own where it rests on the top of the covers.

The headline reads proudly, " _CUP HERO MALFOY REFUSES TO LEAVE CAPTAIN AND LOVER WEASLEY'S DEATHBED"_

There are many things wrong with that headline.

For one, Rose is not Scorpius Malfoy's lover. At least she wasn't when she last checked, and she's pretty sure she'd know if she was. For one, she'd probably not be alone in bed and he wouldn't run away from her like opposing magnets if she was his lover. And she wouldn't have to imagine what he tasted like covered in chocolate syrup because she would have gathered enough evidence on the fact to know by now _._ Silly _Prophet_ , spreading lies ( _AND GIVING ME FALSE HOPE YOU BASTARDS!)_.

Secondly, she's not on her deathbed. In fact she's not even almost dead. Clearly. She felt closer to death when she woke up on his ensuite floor hungover as fuck and unable to open her goddam eyes. This? This was a minor inconvenience at most.

Lastly, and perhaps most intriguingly, why the fuck was Malfoy a hero for holding her hand? Don't get her wrong, she's glad he did, but it's hardly life saving is it? It's hardly making the difference between life and death here now is it? It's not as if he's performing heart surgery with one hand tied behind his back and absolutely no training ( _actually she's really happy he isn't doing that)._ So how come he's such a hero?

Rose has a thousand questions. Instead all she can manage is an undignified, "Huh."

She sneaks a peek at Malfoy – which is not sneaky at all because all her muscles ache and she has such limited movement that it's a big deal to shift her head just that bit so her entire body ends up shifting – only to find him apparently very interested in that windowsill still.

 _I am less aesthetically pleasing than a windowsill._

She unsubtly shifts back to look at the paper in her lap one more.

"I don't have the floating things now," _Congrats on speaking sentences Captain Obvious_.

"No, they took them down 2 days ago," Scorpius says conversationally.

He's too late to realise his mistake.

There's a tense silence as both he and Maurice pray Rose missed his slip. Their prayers aren't answered.

" _How long have I been in here?!"_ and if Rose's voice is just a tad high pitched and bordering on hysterical she refuses to acknowledge it.

"Four days."

The response that comes from Scorpius is quiet and it doesn't escape her for a minute how his voice shakes when he says it, or the implications of it. The papers may have been exaggerating the details to sell copies and there's very little evidence to suggest that she was on her deathbed, but it doesn't change the fact that Rose sustained a potentially massive head injury and Scorpius truly had no idea who she was going to be when she woke up. Rose makes a quick note to donate a large sum of money to The Krum Facility and personally thank all staff that were involved in her recovery.

There are a thousand thoughts running through her head, but instead of voicing them and running the risk of crying ( _again_ ), she says, "Does that mean you haven't showered in 4 days."

And that's what finally forces him to look at her.

"I hardly think that should be your main concern at this point Rosie," she can tell he's trying not to, but there's a gentle smile gracing his features and suddenly he doesn't look quite so horrid, even with the matted facial hair.

 _Please don't look at me like that ever again – my ovaries simply can't handle it._

 _(That's a lie – always look at me that way)_

"I don't know," she returns his smile, "this room is pretty small, and you're body odor is pretty potent. I could be knocked out again any minute."

"Seriously dude," Maurice joins in, "I'm almost unconscious and I haven't sustained a head injury."

Scorpius sends him a glare that hasn't any heat behind it as a silence settles over them again.

"Four days," Rose breathes and tries to comprehend the fact that she hasn't just lost one day, but _four_. It's all a bit much to take in, so she does what she always does when she's uncomfortable – she resorts to humour.

"Four days in hospital – you'd think my folks would be a bit more concerned!" If she sounds wounded it is completely accidental.

"Your parents have been here since it happened," Scorpius responds and Rose doesn't know if it's his voice or the confirmation that her family love her that makes her feel all warm and tingly ( _actually now that she thinks about it, that could just be the potions_ ), "They just go home to sleep. They should be back within the hour."

Well that's comforting. But there's something about it that's mildly alarming.

 _Her parents have gone home to sleep. But Scorpius…sleeps here?_

 _Whoa, whoa, whoa feelings! Don't go running away with any silly ideas without the evidence to back it up._

"So do you all do split shifts?" she's aiming for conversational and failing terribly. She's entirely too concerned with how much time Scorpius has spent here for her own good, and it comes across clearly in her tone, "Mum and dad during the day, then a team mate at night?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose notes the smile Maurice is giving Scorpius who seems particularly reluctant to answer.

"Not exactly…." he eventually offers entirely unhelpfully.

When he fails to offer up any further information, Maurice steps in, "Lover Boy hasn't left your side."

"Yes _thank you_ Maurice." Scorpius doesn't sound thankful at all.

Rose has to mentally tell her feelings and ovaries to calm themselves down – _this does not count as considerable evidence that he….that he has…emotions. Calm your goddam farms._

 _(Jokes, he loves you)_

 _(SHUT UP FEELINGS)_

Maurice has crossed his arms and clears his throat pointedly at Scorpius, who simply glares at him but doesn't out right challenge him – they both know that Maurice more than has him beat on physical strength, that is a fight he does not want to welcome. Rose sees Maurice nod towards her, eyes stern, but whatever he's trying to communicate telepathically falls on deaf ears, because Scorpius very resolutely does not shift.

 _Merlin, you could cut the tension with a bloody knife._

"So!" Rose says as lightly as possible to diffuse the situation, "Who do I have to kill for doing this to me?"

Scorpius coughs uncomfortably and does the whole ' _oh look at how interesting this windowsill is!'_ act again. Rose is going to thoroughly examine that windowsill herself and try to pry information out of it as to how it manages to capture so much of Scorpius Malfoy's attention, because that's definitely a trick she'd like to learn.

"Valentino," Maurice's eyes are doing that dancing thing they do when he's particularly amused by something again ( _which, was she not so doped up on elixirs and such, might have aggravated Rose just a tad)_ , "But the killing him bit might be a little difficult."

Rose knows she's missing something but is much too fed up with all these subtleties and secret discussions to try and pry it out of him, so she's direct.

 _(Also, as a side note, Valentino is a douche-canoe that can go shove his pretty Italian head up the ass of a Hungarian Horntail)_

"Why?" she asks pointedly. Maurice's smile grows.

"Because I'm pretty sure the staff here have prohibited any member of our team from accessing his bed," Maurice looks entirely too proud of that, "Care to explain why, Lover boy?"

Scorpius is still infatuated with that damn piece of wooden architecture. At the extended silence Maurice sighs and concedes he'll have to share the story. He does not sound upset about this at all.

"You see, Valentino – _the dick_ – knocked you off your broom –"

" _With an illegal hit!"_ Scorpius exclaims rather animatedly considering he's the king of illegal moves, "He was _barely_ four feet away – that is _way_ too close to-"

"Save it for the tribunal, Lover Boy," cue glare from Scorpius that Maurice, predictably, ignores, "Anyway, Valentino knocked you out with one hit. So, in honour of our fallen comrade and out of the love and devotion we have for you Rosie-dear, Scorpius and I decided to take a bit of revenge. And when I say Scorpius and I, I mean I hit a bludger at him once or twice, and Lover-Boy here broke four of his ribs, dislocated his shoulder and may have fractured his jaw. He's just down the hall."

"You say it like I did it with my bare hands," Scropius grumbles like a scolded child, "At least my hits were legal."

"We'll see if that's how the tribunal views it." He may sound judgmental, but Rose knows them both better than that and can hear the pride seeping through Maurice's tone. _Boys, such idiots._

"You really broke Valentino's…" Rose can't recount the injuries properly, " _everything_?"

Scorpius shrugs like it's no big deal he's put someone in hospital, "Nothing life threatening…"

"Just potentially career-ending," Maurice says conversationally with good humor.

Apparently that's not an appropriate response.

"You think this is funny?! Rose could have _died!"_ Scorpius screams so loudly it echoes throughout the room and quite possibly through the entire wing. Rose tries not to notice how close he looks to crying, "You saw her fall! You heard the hit! It was a 30 foot drop! For all I knew she was already-!"

Scorpius stops himself and looks at her, his bottom lip quivering.

Why is it raining on her face? Oh wait. No, no she's just crying. Again. _Great._

Scorpius visibly swallows and Rose can see he's doing all he can to prevent the tears he wants to shed from falling . She wants to hold him. She wants to tell him to get back into bed and lay down with her and to tell him it's all ok – _she's ok._ She wants to never let him go. She wants to fix him. Because even though she's the one in the bed, it's very obvious she isn't the only one that's been affected by this whole thing.

Maurice appears to know he's crossed a line, but as he opens his mouth his friend cuts him off.

"Your parents will want to know you're awake," Scorpius says quietly, voice breaking again, as he excuses himself.

Maurice and Rose are left in an uncomfortable silence, trying to process what, exactly, has just transpired between them all. If it's true, and Scorpius unleashed hell on Valentino for knocking her off her broom, she isn't happy about it. Sure, she's pissed beyond measure that she doesn't remember the game, but that's no reason to recklessly cause extreme injury. If it was an illegal move that's exactly why they have a Tribunal; to investigate and dish out punishment. That is not up to the Beaters to decide. The whole thing makes her feel a little ill. Well, more ill.

Precisely 5.25 minutes later Ron and Hermione Weasley rush into her room, dressing gowns billowing behind them. Rose is showered with kisses and tears and cries of ' _you are never getting on a broom again, young lady!'_ Maurice politely excuses himself, muttering something about having to track down a runaway idiot.

Within the hour the _entire_ Potter-Weasley clan tries to force themselves into the tiny space – most of them still in pyjamas (with the exception of James who, if his flashy attire and slightly swaying stance is anything to go by, hasn't actually been to bed yet). Grandma Molly sees the copy of the paper Maurice left in his wake, asking if Hermione has found out who took the photo yet. She says she hasn't, _but rest assured when she finds out who it was she'll deal with it personally._ Rose has always admired how scary her mum can be without even trying. Hugo says he's sure they would have won if she hadn't been knocked off her broom and if Scorpius hadn't been ordered off the pitch. That starts a whole other round of splutter-wail-snot-swallowing-crying ( _because not only has she forgotten the game but they lost to bloody Italy! That's just too much for today)_. Hugo gets a firm ' _thwak'_ over the head from Albus, and the outcome of the match is not allowed to be mentioned again.

Over the next couple of days all her team mates – both the World Cup side and her beloved Harpies – make their way through her room, all threatening to finish Valentino off if she wants them too. They bring her gifts and balloons and sneak in food and all do their best to make her feel better about the fact that she can't remember the match.

Scorpius never returns. And that makes her a lot more miserable than it probably should.

 _It's for the best_ , she tells herself, _You were growing too fond of him anyway._

Sadly, despite all the other issues she's having with her memory, the look in Scorpius' eyes right before he leant in to kiss her is burnt into her brain. She sorely wishes it wasn't.

* * *

 _Ok, so we got a bit angsty towards the end there. Sorry. No more of that to come, promise. Next is aaallll back to humour and smutty stuff! Yay! Also I just wanna say that I don't condone violence and that Scorpius' reaction is not meant to appear romantic. It's reckless and thoughtless. But that will be covered more later. But also, let's be honest, Quidditch is a freaking dangerous game. Serious injury is inevitable_

 _One more chappie to come, which is already partially written so hopefully it won't take too long. But I'm thinking I might start uploading the first of Scorpius' chapters in a different story because if you read the final installment of this one you're effectively going to know how Scorpius' one ends before it starts. I know we all see where this is going anyways, but still! If you have any particularly strong opinions either way - whether I should just finish this first, or start posting Scorpius' first three chapters before the conclusion of either - let me know either in a review or a PM. All contributions will be treasured :)_

 _Regardless of when it's posted, keep your eyes peeled for '_ Grand Romantic Gestures' _which will be the title of the accompanying piece for all Scorpius' POVs of the incidents._

 _All my love to all of you wonderful reviewers! I will respond to them all as soon as I can._

 _Much love xo_


	4. Scorpius Malfoy's Bed

_Ok soooo this one got a lot bigger than expected. I swear I was trying to make them little. Urgh, no use I'm afraid. Anyways hope y'all prepared for an avalanche of feelings because HERE COMES THE FLUFF! And the smut. Mostly fluff, but yeah there's some smut at the end too because let's be honest, did anyone really see this ending differently._

 _You'll notice I've also posted Scorpius' POV Chapter 1, so if you'd rather read that first then feel free. I think you'll still enjoy it regardless if you ultimately know how it ends. At least I'm hoping so._

 _Anyways, enjoy. I've greatly enjoyed writing this series, and I'm sure I'll love Scorpius' POV even more so. So keep your eyes out for '_ Grand Romantic Gestures' _to get the full story about what happened between them all those mornings Rose woke up with no memory._

 _Disclaimer: Characters are property of JK Rowling_

* * *

 _ **4\. Scorpius Malfoy's bed**_

The arm around her waist and the sheets that feel softer than clouds were the first indications that she was not in her bed. She was most certainly in _a_ bed. But it wasn't hers. For a horrifying moment she thinks she might be back at The Krum Facility, and that she's lost four days' worth of lying unconscious in bed dreaming of flying. Then there's the soft, steady breath on the back of her neck. That's definitely an indication that she's not in her own bed or a hospital bed. Because if she was she'd be there alone. Nobody shares Rose's bed – _nobody_. And even if they did, they definitely wouldn't be spooning her. Rose isn't quite awake, but she's at least 90% sure where she is and who is responsible for the breathing on her neck and the arm around her waist (and the _thickness_ currently wedged against her butt). And she knows exactly why she's here.

Because the bastard had kissed her.

What nerve! _What insolence!_ What absolute disrespect and downright _unsporting_ behaviour was that?! Acting like they were _a thing._ Acting like they were _a couple._ Acting like he knew damn well she _wanted_ him to kiss her. Really, he could have at least had the decency to _pretend_ he didn't know she wanted him. But no, that would be too kind, too benevolent, for the colossal sexy wanker that was Scorpius Malfoy.

It was the final match of the season. Rose knew she and her beloved Harpies were in with a chance thanks to a phenomenal second half of the season, but _Devil Spawn's_ Falcons were out thanks to their penalties for breaking so many rules. There was a lot on the line for the Harpies – _for her_ – and Rose was determined, resolutely resigned and supremely dedicated to seeing to it that they didn't miss out.

Scorpius _Prickius_ Malfoy, however, seemed to be just as determined to see them beat and put out. Because his sole purpose in life, it appeared, was to cause her misfortune. Like getting her hopes up that spending four days by her bedside meant he actually _cared_ about her, only to _NOT FUCKING TALK TO HER AGAIN FOR A MONTH AND A HALF_. Dickwad.

Not that she cared. Because he was just a dick.

That's it.

At least that was easier to cram through her head. Until the press conference.

The pre-match press conference had been worse than usual. All anyone wanted to talk about were those damn photos of the two of them when she was in hospital. Everyone was speculating about their non-existent relationship no matter how many times they both said ' _we're just enemies'_ with a smile that everyone laughed at because they're idiots and think they're joking. He is her sworn mortal enemy, regardless of how nice and gentle he was that morning when she was in hospital, and no matter how the way he says her name sends shivers down her spine or the way he looks at her like he wants her makes her toes curl, he is her enemy dammit! In fact, most of those things just made her ire for him all the more deserved. Because _how dare he_ make her care about him?! How dare he invade her dreams that leave her in a cold sweat and uncomfortably wet between her thighs only to _cut all fucking communication like he was actually dead._

And no matter what _The Prophet_ liked to say, his ruthless beating of Valentino was not romantic – it was reckless and had him dragged from the field ( _the fact that he apparently flew right to her bedside was completely irrelevant so shut the fuck up heart, I haven't time for your shit_ ) which was just poor play, plain and simple. Not to mention fucking mental. Rose didn't need anyone avenging her, especially not a self-entitled, fine-assed pretty boy like Scorpius Malfoy.

( _And anyone – or_ _thing_ _, here's looking at you libido – that says different is talking crazy)_

That one final blow he delivered – that dislocated Valentino's collar bone when the Italian was already dragging himself due to his other injuries – had caused a tribunal review for Scorpius, with ' _unsporting play and misconduct'_ cited as the reason as to why.

( _Rose had been trying to get his whole fucking team penalized for that the entire goddam season to no avail, but the second he hurts the pretty Italian man on close to seven figures a year then everyone loses their shit. Typical)_

But Rose was now convinced that Scorpius only reacted that way because they had ended up losing the game. It wasn't so much because the guy had caused her pain. He was just thinking of the championship. That was all.

At least that was the story Rose told herself and she was sticking to it goddammit.

One of the idiot reporters asked _Captain Ass-shat_ what he was thinking when he saw Rose fall from her broom, and Rose couldn't help but notice that his permanent smirk faltered and he had the absolute audacity to look genuinely pained for a moment.

 _Playing them like fucking violins._

"I…" he faltered, even letting his voice crack a little (totally rehearsed, he's obviously planned for these questions), "I didn't think at all. I saw my…Captain get hit, I saw her hit the ground, and I didn't think a damn thing."

There was a beat of silence and before Rose could interject with ' _because he has no brain'_ , Scorpius spoke again, this time softer and all together too sincere.

"I didn't think anything at all until I knew she was breathing," he was staring at a spot on the floor, his mind very clearly somewhere else. Rose had to remind herself to breathe, "And then all I heard was screaming, in my own head, with my own voice, just shouting that she better be alright, and if she wasn't I would never forgive myself," he swallows again and Rose is pretty well certain he's on another planet, "I just kept thinking _'Wake up Rosie, for the love of Merlin wake up'._ "

There was another beat of stillness while cameras flashed and Rose tried to find a glimmer of falsity in his eyes. She came up empty-handed. Scorpius shook himself a little, smirk back in place as he made eye contact with the reporter that asked the question.

"And then of course I thought that Valentino was a dead man, and I was going to personally make sure he didn't win 'Italy's Most Beautiful Wizard' award this year."

There was a murmur of laughter that fluttered through the room, with a voice from the back shouting, "So you're admitting to unsporting play, then?"

Scorpius recognized the man and smiled good-naturedly, "It was just a _thought_ Frank. It was fleeting – there one second, gone the next. The rest of my game was simply… _strategy."_

More murmured laughter as the adjudicator quickly redirected questioning away from the unsporting play that everyone in England had tried to convince each other never happened. The next question went to one of the coaches, but Rose found herself still staring at Scorpius where he sat at the opposite end of the table, noting the tremor in his hand as he reached for his water glass, and the deep breath he took to try and calm himself. As he sipped his water his eyes darted towards her, obviously not expecting her to be watching him. He held her gaze, eyes all too serious for her liking, and she swore she saw some kind of begging, or longing, or _something_ in his eyes and it terrified her because this is not who they are, this is not what they do. They are frenemies, they love to hate each other. They are not… _something else._

Rose broke the moment before he did, taking a deep breath and turning back to the reporters. She steeled her nerves and told herself it was nothing, just his newest dirty trick to try and get inside her head before game day to sabotage her team's chances at victory. If he really cared about her he would have spoken to her since that morning in the Krum Facility. Simple as that. You don't pine for someone and never speak to them.

( _And those people who would argue that that was, in fact, exactly what Rose had been doing can just shut their goddam mouths because she's pretty damn sure she never asked for their opinion)_

She realized all too late that she and Scorpius had held their (intimate) gaze in a room full of reporters with cameras that were already convinced there was something between the two of them that wasn't, and it infuriated her that despite all the talk of strategy and trash-talking that each side managed to dish out in spades, the headline emblazoned across the top of _The Daily Prophet_ nestled neatly above the picture of them gazing at each other read: _Lovers to Battle in Last Game of Season._

That, sadly, had been the better part of this whole fiasco.

Walking out onto the pitch the next day, Rose had felt fury in her very bones. She had a hunger in the bottom of her belly that drove her every move. She wanted that spot in the finals – _she deserved it Merlin be praised –_ and she was going to make damn sure that no blonde-haired, grey-eyed pretty boy and his team of thugs was going to stop her from achieving it.

Her team filed out behind her, game faces on as they basked in the uproaring applause that filled the stadium. Half the stadium was a sea of dark green and gold, all cheering for their girls to give it to the Falcons one last time and solidify their place in the finals. Being the home team, Rose's Harpies had entered the Stadium second, Scorpius' Falcons already lined up on the opposite side of the pitch. He turned and looked at her. Rose glared good and hard to show him – _this match is ours._

And all the bastard did in response was smirk.

He lead his team into the air in a flurry of grey robes for their warm up drills, and Rose – slightly put out by the cheeky smile he shot her way and his apparent total lack of fear at her ferocity – kicked off to start their pre-match routine.

She kept her mind on the impending game fairly well the whole time. Rose was solely focused on that finals position and pummeling the good-for-nothing Falcons as much as possible on the way there.

And that all went ass over tit when it came to the last of the official pre-game formalities.

The whistle signaled for Captains to land and shake hands, as was customary at these sorts of affairs. Rose took her time, letting Scorpius linger on the ground longer than was necessary before dismounting her beloved Zeus (her match broom, because he was king of the heavens) and approaching where he stood with the head umpire that looked less than impressed at her minor intimidation tactics. Said umpire instructed them to shake, so Rose – being an adult – stuck out her free hand, her other clutching Zeus tightly as she mentally went over the new plays they had decided to bring into this match.

Rose's internal recount of the 'Hail Mary Triplet' set-up faltered when she saw Scorpius' face. There he was, smirking again like he knew some big secret she didn't. He slowly extended his hand, eyes boring into hers with absolutely no intention of looking away.

"Oh Rosie," he said in a tone an octave lower than was appropriate for activities not confined to a bedroom ( _do not think about being in a bedroom with Scorpius Mafoy Rose. Do not)_ , "Why treat each other so cordially?"

Before she had the chance to respond with a well deserved ' _what the fuck are you on about?'_ , Scorpius took hold of her hand and yanked her forward as he stepped into her.

And without a second to process the clusterfuck of a situation she found herself in, Rose was suddenly kissing Scorpius Malfoy. Or, more appropriately, he was kissing her.

In the middle of the stadium.

Surrounded by literally thousands of people.

 _Who were cheering? Traitorous bastards._

Scorpius' hand found its way to the base of her spine to hold her against him, whilst Rose's hand had landed on his chest in an attempt to steady herself when he pulled her into him.

And why had the world gone dark?

Oh she closed her eyes.

She closed her eyes and she was kissing Scorpius Malfoy.

And somehow that hand on his chest had just kind of, miraculously, made its way up to the base of his neck to tangle in his hair.

And then his tongue was sweeping over her bottom lip and she's pulling him closer _and what the fuck was going on. Abort. ABORT._

 _(But seriously don't, this is fantastic)_

There was a sudden coldness and Rose realized that Scorpius had pulled away, leaving her awkwardly just kind of standing there, dazed and confused, as he stood back and smirked.

And then – _AND THEN_ – he had the absolute gall to wipe their accumulated spit from his bottom lip with his thumb, only to examine it before sucking the damn digit into his mouth _and sweet holy hell that is not a visual she needs to have burned into her retinas but that is exactly where it's going_ _damn him to hell._

That same smirk took up its familiar position across his features as he took her in while Rose did what had to be a pretty darn impressive impersonation of a puffer-fish.

"Ah, a pleasure as always, " _um, what? Always? What the hell?_ "Enjoy trying to focus on the game now."

With those parting words, Scorpius mounted his broom in one graceful movement and kicked off into the sky. It was unfair. He'd left her standing her looking like an idiot while he got to prance around with the elegance of a fucking ballerina.

 _NOT. OK._

Rose, realizing all too late that this is all part of his damn dirty tactics and "strategy" ( _read: cheating)_ , squared her shoulders, and pointedly ignored the fact that her supposed teammate (now traitor) Freddie Langhorn was literally howling with laughter and 'whooping' loudly and enthusiastically enough that it was almost enough to dislodge her from her broom. Rose made a mental note to have her dragged the second she put a glove wrong.

Forcing herself to _get the fuck back on your broom, Weasley_ , Rose mounted it swiftly (with much less elegance than Devil Dick over there) and somewhat shakily got herself into the air in preparation for the snitch to be released. She could do this. This was her match. This was her time. And she was not going to let some little ( _perfect, blissful_ ) kiss from old mate 'conveniently forgot you existed until two seconds ago' get in the way of her dominating this match.

Only it kind of did.

Rose can fully accept that for the first 10 minutes of the match she was next to useless. She was flying in circles, almost bumping into her own teammates and was much too hyper aware of Malfoy doing his spins and swirls through the air, hitting bludgers at her teammates with such lazy movements you'd think he was asleep, but graceful enough to look like a fucking interpretive dancer. Due to her hyper-awareness, however, she did take note that he didn't hit one at her for entire match. Whether he was taking pity on her ( _scoundrel!_ ) or genuinely concerned for her welfare ( _considerate scoundrel!_ ) she wasn't sure, but she wasn't ok with it.

It took the very commanding " _Weasley! Woman up!"_ from her Vice Captain Kathleen Gainsburrow to snap her out of it. She had a job to do, and that job was not ogling Scorpius bloody Malfoy for the entire match. It was to catch that goddam snitch and get them into the Finals.

 _Get you head in the game Rose – smarten the fuck up!_

Her game had improved from then out and, by the 34th minute, Rose had the snitch in her hand and a spot in the finals for her beloved Harpies. She smiled with her teammates, she waved happily to the crowd, but she'd be a flat out liar if she said she didn't think about Malfoy and what the fuck happened at the start of the match.

And the way he had smirked at her and bowed at her as he left the pitch didn't help either.

Rose tried to ignore it as she walked her team back to their change rooms, and she would have had a solid chance of ignoring the whole damn thing had it not been for Kathleen Gainsburrow slapping her on the shoulder and congratulating her on finally getting over Scorpius' blatant attempt to use dirty tactics to throw her off her game.

And it was that one word – _tactics –_ that stuck in her head.

She hadn't imagined them growing closer throughout the World Cup series, of that she's sure. He had stayed by her damn bedside when she was in hospital for Merlin's sake ( _and then not spoken to you for months, but let's just forget that bit for argument's sake, shall we?_ ) – they had become friendly… _ish._

Surely he wouldn't….

What was she talking about? _Of course he fucking would._

Rose spent 20 minutes sitting in the change rooms stewing over the whole damn thing. Over how he could play her like those bloody reporters. How he weaseled his way under her skin. How he made her care about him only to use it against her.

Rose was _mad._

She was _furious_.

She was _sexually frustrated_.

And she downright _refused_ to be this wound up for any longer than absolutely necessary. She either needed to punch something - hard. Or shag something - hard.

And when she said 'something' she was, naturally, speaking of King of the Douchebags, Scorpius Malfoy.

With little thought to it's repercussions, sight tainted with the red haze of fury and passion, Rose left poor Zeus behind and marched into the Falcons' dressing room. No one tried to stop her – possibly due to the fact that she's Rose Fucking Weasley _so bow down bitches_ , or possibly because they saw the look in her eyes and – wisely – knew to get the hell out of her way. With a surge of wordless magic that was surprisingly well-aimed considering the myriad of emotions coursing through her at that moment, the doors had burst open to reveal a room full of scarcely dressed, extremely surprised and mildly terrified young men.

She spoke one word – " _You_!" – and immediately garnered Devil Dick's attention.

The rest happened in a bit of a haze.

He made some comeback about her accosting him post-match.

She replied through gritted teeth that he was a mother-fucking snake.

They fired insults back and forth. She advanced on him. Some time in between everyone else had literally disappeared, apparating to some place that wasn't fucking there ( _smart move_ ). She hated him. With every fiber of her being, with every breath in her body. _She. Hated. Him._ He held his ground, stared her down, used his height as an advantage.

She was screaming and he was annoyingly calm. It only served to infuriate her further.

He asked her why she was angry. To which she tastefully told him to _TAKE A FUCKING GUESS._

And he just looked at her like she was an idiot child and Merlin Almighty she wanted to punch him. Right in his big stupid mouth that got her into such a state in the first place.

He kept asking her stupid questions and she didn't want to answer them. She wanted to hurt him because he'd hurt her and because this _wasn't fair_.

Eventually, when he asked her again why she's mad he kissed her, she could finally find the right words.

" _Because you've made me care about you and now you're using it against me!"_

And then it was silent, and Rose immediately regretted her words because if he was being manipulative before who's to say what he's going to be capable of now that she has actually told him she cares about him.

 _Oh Merlin please just finish me off now. Lightening bolt to the brain, go ahead. It's got to be more bearable than this fucking conversation._

Then – out of the fucking blue – he was kissing her again, one hand in her hair, the other wrapped around her to pull her into him, and dear Merlin it was just as blissful and perfect as the last one. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to hate him. She was just struggling to remember why right at that second. Rose felt her fists unclench and tension leave her body and his tongue was in her mouth and _holy mother of God this is too much_. Her hands found his hips and she simply could not stop herself from responding with gusto.

Scorpius pulled back barely far enough for a breath to pass between them. He seemed to be breathing just as heavily as she was and it made her feel a lot better about the whole situation. She watched him swallow heavily, eyes fixed on his lips because she didn't think she could look him in the eye at that moment.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking you're the only one who cares, Rose," he sounded the most sincere she thinks he's ever been, besides that morning in hospital when he was practically shaking with fear. It was incredibly endearing.

She managed to lift her gaze to meet his and raised her eyebrow in an attempt to look a lot less affected than she was.

"You don't expect me to believe Scorpius Malfoy actually has a heart, do you?"

Scorpius looked at her like she was an idiot child again and it was almost enough to slap him, fluffy feelings or not.

"You should know that better than most Rosie, after all," he smiled and she was 90% sure she just turned into a big old ball of fluff, "I gave it to you long ago."

And that was just fucking perfect wasn't it. Of course he had an answer – _the perfect fucking answer –_ to everything.

She hates him for it.

 _(Except she really doesn't)_

And then she simply had no choice but to jump him, because really, if someone said that to you who you really be able to stop yourself?

No, absolutely not.

Rose dragged him forward this time because she honestly had no way of replying to that that wasn't to just kiss him senseless and hope he understood what it meant. Hope he understood this was her way of telling him, " _I know, I love you too_ ", because Rose wasn't brave enough to say the words herself. Not yet.

His hand moved lower and took a greedy handful of her ass to squeeze whilst simultaneously pulling her into his hips. She wasn't sure who groaned but someone did and it was enough to throw them over the edge from ' _passionate embrace'_ right into ' _no way to control ourselves so clear the area'_ , and she was pushing him back against the lockers and it was messy and glorious and everything she needed from him.

He removed his hand from her hair to join his other one at her ass before taking a firm hold of her and spinning them as he hiked her up against the wall, the height difference almost eliminated as he wedged her between himself and the lockers. He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth to nip at it and Rose may have sighed particularly loudly at that. One of her legs came up to wrap around his hip and tugged him closer because she needed more, more of this, more of _more_ and she couldn't wait. Rose ran her hands all over him, wherever she could touch, trying to memorise it all lest it be a dream and he disappeared.

She was desperate, this she knows, but she was terrified – after coming so close to kissing him at The Krum Facility and instantly regretting a missed opportunity, she was not about to make that same mistake. She needed this to happen. She needed this to not be another mishap that didn't quite happen. She needed _him_.

So one can imagine her displeasure – neigh, her _anger_ (neigh, her sadness and overwhelming sense of rejection) – when he commanded her softly to stop, and forced her hands off him to be pinned beside her head. It wasn't unfair. This didn't get to end now. She could physically feel how much he wanted this too, so he can't turn around and say it's not going to work. Because she's sure they could work just brilliantly, as long as they didn't kill each other. And she wanted this, and she wanted after this, and she wanted to wake up beside him, and she wanted to go to sleep beside him and she wanted it _all_ so he was not allowed to say _stop._

"Why?" she demanded, putting on a much braver face than what she actually felt.

He smirked and she felt herself relax a little – he stills wanted this, _her_. He hadn't changed his mind. Perfect.

"Because," he tightened his grip on her hands. She felt him push himself against her and she could do absolutely nothing to stop the gasp that she released because if it was this bloody good when they were clothed then how the fuck was she going to manage once they were both naked?

"I have dreamt about being with you for too long to let our first time be in a dirty, smelly change room."

 _Pack your bags everyone! We're on a one-way journey to O-town!_

Scorpius dropped his head closer to her ear, his lips running across her neck in the most delightfully distracting way and yeah she wasn't even sure if she was still breathing.

 _Ok, O-Town train is going a lot faster than usual. Hold on to your hats people!_

Another roll of his hips forced her to take in a quick breath. Good, her lungs were apparently still working. Not as well as his hips though because _dear lord that was amazing._

"I am going to take you to my apartment," another thrust and she was pretty sure all hope of coherent thought was officially lost, "I am going to strip every last article of clothing off you."

 _Fuck she can practically see O-Town already._

His pressed his thigh between her legs and she grinded down against it in a lame attempt to relieve some of the building pressure, because she was going to explode very soon if he continued the way he was. She liked the way his jaw tightened when she did that. At least she wasn't the only lost cause here.

Scorpius leant in close again and whispered right into her ear, "And then I am going to take my sweet time learning every inch of you when you're naked in my bed," _well fuck; it appears she has greatly underestimated his penchant for dirty talk, and it's probably going to be the end of her, "_ Before having you on every available surface."

Well that was it. She was a goner. It was official. There was only one question that was yet to be answered: _why the hell weren't they naked yet?!_

"I haven't got all day Malfoy," she managed to say with a lot more bravado then she thought she was capable of, silently impressed with her ability to speak, "what are you waiting for?"

The only response she got was a smirk as bright as the goddam sun, and she knew – _she just knew –_ this was going to be the start of something brilliant.

And that was how she found herself where she currently was, sleeping in Scorpius Malfoy's bed, two sets of Quidditch robes strewn unceremoniously throughout the room, and the man himself lying behind her, arm wrapped around her middle to keep her close as the light crept in through the windows they had neglected to cover in their haste last night. And wouldn't you know it, Rose simply cannot find one single fuck to give about it.

Malfoy, she discovered, was a man of his word, and delivered as was promised. He'd taken his time with her and it almost bloody killed her. He'd made a very clear attempt to try and calm himself down and make sure things didn't end too quickly. Which really, Rose wouldn't have minded one bit because she had needed a release as soon as fucking possible.

Which was promptly delivered the second he dropped to his knees.

 _(Note: Rose is convinced there is nothing sexier than the sight of Scorpius Malfoy very slowly lowering his head between her thighs. Maybe the only thing better was watching him come undone underneath her. It was a very close contest)_

Oh Lord, just thinking about it was making certain areas wake up very quickly. She needs to stop this; the more she relives it the more she'll want to do it again. And she's supposed to be angry at him because deciding to kiss her in the middle of the fucking field before a very important game when he hasn't spoken to her in a month and a half was a dick move. So she really shouldn't think about the way he sucked at her breast while thrusting his fingers inside her. Yeah, definitely don't think about that. And she most certainly shouldn't be thinking about when she rode him and the exclamations and declarations that left his very beautiful mouth as he came undone. Yup, good thing she wasn't thinking about that either, coz that would just make the whole situation between her thighs even worse.

 _Sweet Merlin they're gunna need to go another round before breakfast._

The breaths on the back of her neck take on a different tempo and she feels him shift. He's waking up, and it's that very moment that Rose realizes she hasn't a damn clue what she's supposedly to say to him. " _Job well done, Captain Malfoy!"_ seems a little too teammate-y. An impressive collection of curse words also doesn't seem quite right even though that's largely what's going through her mind. A casual chat about the weather and what a nice day it seems to be shaping up to be seems far too neighbourly. And she probably shouldn't proposition him and command him to _get the fuck inside her_ first thing in the morning. Maybe she should just yell at him, good and long, and let all her pent up energy leave her that way instead. Scorpius, the beautiful soul, puts her out of her misery and leads the conversation instead.

"Morning, Rosie," he says, voice all husky and delicious.

Huh. 'Morning'. Yeah, she guessed that was an appropriate way to start things. _Why hadn't she thought of that?_

"Sleep well?" she can _feel_ him smirking to himself because he knows damn well she slept fantastically after their very energetic few rounds of bumping uglies.

"No, I think the night on the roof was more peaceful," Rose smirks and she's pretty damn sure she looks much too much like him for anyone's good, "The birds make less noise than you."

Without missing a beat, Scorpius hums and it's all gravelly and delicious.

"Let's not pretend you don't love the noises I make Rosie," the hand around her stomach makes a slow move upwards and tweaks her already hard nipple. Rose squeaks in response. He does that delicious humming thing again and _could he just not because she was having a hard enough time producing coherent thought this early in the morning as it was!_

"I like the noises you make too," he's smiling against her skin and it's really bloody distracting. Almost as distracting as the way his hand is now massaging her breast and drawing patterns all over her rib cage. Rose is pretty sure they should be arguing by now – heaven knows that's what they've done every other time she's woken up at his place. But this time is different. Very different. For one, they're both naked.

 _That was probably not the right thing to focus on if you're planning to calm yourself down Rose._

Rose needs to get something off her chest that has been bugging her for an incredibly long time and, if she stops and thinks about it, its probably something she should have asked some time before they got naked.

"Scorpius?" she doesn't like that she sounds scared, but Merlin be praised that's what she is. It doesn't escape the man behind her and she feels the atmosphere shift a little as the hand stops wandering.

"Yes Rosie?" he sounds just as tentative as her. Rose takes a breath and tells herself to be brave.

"A month and a half."

He understands her meaning and lets out a heavy sigh.

"Yeah, that…I'm sorry."

She's really glad they're having this conversation without looking at each other because Rose is pretty sure she looks pretty pathetic.

"Why?"

Another heavy sigh from the body behind her, "I was planning."

"Planning?"

"Yes, planning. Or scheming?" he sounds genuinely confused, "I was doing one of them, possibly both, and I was failing."

It was too early for this. "I'm not following."

"There is a waste basket out there," his arm unwraps itself from around her for a very brief moment to point to the doorway leading to the lounge room before settling around her once more, "that is full of letters I almost sent you asking you to dinner."

Her chest doesn't _bloom_ , thank you very much. It's not a fucking flower.

But there is some gymnast bitch in there doing backflips like you wouldn't believe.

"Why didn't you send them?" her voice sounds small even to her own ears and were they not wrapped together he probably wouldn't have heard her.

His reply comes back just as softly, "They weren't good enough."

That manages to force a half-assed attempt at a laugh out of her that's really more like a tired cough.

"You couldn't manage to write ' _Hey Rose, wanna have dinner? From Scorpius'_ on a card?" she asks, sounding a little disbelieving. He scoffs against her neck in response.

"Well that's not romantic at all, is it? I watched you almost die, I was going to do a darn sight better then ' _wanna have dinner'_."

Rose smiled in understanding, "So you planned."

"So I planned," comes the confirmation, followed by a yawn ( _and even that sounds sexy Merlin smite her!)_

"Right," she's picking on him now but that's what they do so it doesn't really bother her, "So your grand plan was to kiss me right before a very important match and just hope I didn't kill you afterwards?"

"No I hadn't thought of that at all."

 _Well that just made no fucking sense._

"So…" Rose leaves it hanging, hoping he'll elaborate. There's a heavy sigh from behind her and she suspects, if they were open, he'd be rolling his eyes at her.

"So I had a whole speech planned that I was going to recite to you after the match, then I saw you on the pitch looking all fiery so I just thought ' _fuck it, this will do'_. And the rest, as they say, is history." He actually sounds pretty damn proud of himself. She could slap him.

"That is possibly the worst plan I have ever heard."

"Well it worked didn't it?"

She honestly couldn't fault him there.

"I can't believe the first time we kissed was in front of a stadium full of people," Rose grumbles into the pillow, trying to ignore how his fingers feel as they begin to wander and draw patterns against her skin again, "How embarrassing."

There's a tired laugh from the body behind her, "Yeah, that wasn't our first kiss."

Rose's brain freezes, "What?"

"Last night's would have been," he pretends to be thinking hard about it but she knows he's just taking the opportunity to slide closer and let his hands go a lot further south than what can be considered within the bounds of an innocent morning cuddle ( _you're both butt naked and you can feel his erection pressed into your ass – nothing about this was ever innocent)_ , "Number 4, I think."

Rose shuffles around to face him, regretfully displacing his hand from where it had taken up residence between her thighs, eyes barely open but still managing to pull off a scowl quite spectacularly.

"Alright Malfoy," she says with attempted seriousness as her hands come to rest on his chest ( _Merlin be praised he's beautiful in the morning_ ), "Spill – what's this 'number four' business all about?"

He smiles at her and it blinds her again. He's so carefree here, when they're both naked. He looks so happy. But so does she, so she guesses that's fair.

"We've kissed three times before last night, but last night was the first time _I_ kissed _you_ ," she raises a confused eyebrow and he looks much too pleased with himself, "Every other time it's been you throwing yourself at me. Not that I blame you, you're only human."

"Ok Dickwad," she would cross her arms if she were standing, instead she just kind of hits his chest a bit, "Now I _know_ you're lying."

Scorpius lowers his head and rests his forehead against her, and how dare he be adorable when she is trying to argue with him?!

 _(Rose has the horrifying thought that from now on if they ever argue he's going to be able to beat her simply by stripping and kissing her. Really, how is she going to be able to out-fight that?!)_

 _(Easy – you just get naked and challenge him right back!)_

 _(Thank you conniving brain, Future Rose owes you one)_

"I only speak the truth, love," her toes curl when he calls her that, "Hand on my heart," but he uses _her_ hand and for some reason that's really distracting and makes her stomach do the flippy-floppy thing again, "You just can't resist me."

Despite the adorableness of this whole scenario, Rose manages to force out a reasonably convincing scoff, "Is that a challenge? Because I am more than happy to prove I am perfectly capable of resisting you by getting out of this bed right no-"

He kisses her to shut her up. Well that's just cheating.

It works though.

"I don't think that's necessary," he says when they finally separate,

He's got her all wrapped up in his arms and when he shifts it becomes very obvious that Malfoy Jr. is more than ready for another round. Funnily enough, Rose's downstairs fun zone is more than ready for another round too. Delicious friction in all the right places is almost enough to distract her from what she had asked. Almost.

"So you still need to explain," She suppresses a moan when he starts sucking on her neck for which she should get a fucking medal for will power thank you very much, "What's with this four kisses business?"

"Well," another kiss behind her ear and oh lordy her toes are curling entirely without her permission, "The first was the night of the Hall of Fame Induction."

That rings an unwelcome bell in her head, "You mean…?"

"The night before you woke up on my bathroom floor?" quick suck to the earlobe and yup, ok, all stations are go in the down stairs fun zone, "Yes, that would be it."

Scorpius smiles as one of his hands slides lower down her back to hitch a leg over his hip. Her hips move against his entirely without her permission and both of them need to take a moment because that feels just… _uhhn._

"But I'm vetoing that one," she likes that his voice has gone all husky and stuff again; she's bloody proud to be the one that does that to him, "Too messy. Not at all what we deserved. More like a crashing of mouths really. Best left forgotten."

"Gee thanks," she succeeds in sounding mildly pissed off, but her ire is kind of blown out of the water when his hand wraps around her thigh and he manages to roll them so she's straddling him.

"Well you were, as they say, '5 sheets to the winds', Rosie Dear," how he manages to sound so calm and in control as he's arranging them is completely beyond her. Just another stupid thing his beautiful stupid body is good at. Asshole, "It definitely wasn't your finest hour."

"Oh and I suppose you were in stellar form, as always, right?" she places her hands on her hips as she raises an unamused eyebrow at him. Scorpius, in response, digs his fingers a little deeper into her hips, his eyes go darker, and the twitch of a certain appendage currently nestled against her backside doesn't escape her. Well, well, isn't that interesting.

 _So, Scorpius has a thing for Angry Rose. Noted. This will definitely come in handy later._

He hums and attempts a shrug, but he is very clearly distracted by the display in front of him, "I did what I could, given the circumstances."

"Tell me," she lowers herself down so her hands are resting beside his head. His hands run up and down her ribcage, "Did this happen pre or post vomiting?"

"Pre-vomit!" he sounds incredulous and a brief look of disgust crosses his features, "I love you darling, but there are limits."

He says it so casually that it throws her off guard. He's already said she has his heart but actually hearing him say it – the big three – makes it hit home even further.

 _He loves you. He actually bloody loves you._

Sensing her tensing up – but smiling at it knowingly – he continues.

"Kiss two," he begins and it snaps her out of her brief trip to la-la-land, "Was the night before you woke up on the roof."

"Don't tell me we kissed under starlight and I forgot?" she aims for sarcasm and hits it pretty precisely, but if she's being honest with herself, forgetting something like that would actually piss her off. His hands are on her ass again – taking a completely unnecessary squeeze that she is definitely not going to protest against – he shifts her until she can feel the head of his cock resting at her entrance. Oh sweet Jesus it would be so easy to just get this show on the road because that is all she wants right now.

Besides answers. And Rose has the sneaking suspicion that if they do 'get the show on the road', they'll both become pretty incoherent very soon after, so they should hold off doing that for a moment. But only a moment.

"No," Scorpius thrusts a little but she moves her hips out of his reach and he sighs, realising the game she's playing. He looks a little pissed, but mostly just really turned on. It is immensely satisfying, "You kissed me before you decided to go sky-writing. Very brief. Too friendly. That one doesn't really count either."

"What did I write in the sky?" she asks, genuinely curious and focusing very hard on not taking any notice of how his hand has slipped between them and started tracing patterns on her inner thigh. That is all kinds of cheating.

He beams at her, "I think that's a secret you'll have to get out of me at another time, Rosie."

"You sound like you're looking forward to it."

"Probably because I am."

Rose decides that's a line of questioning for another day because honestly holding off this long has very nearly killed her.

Rose lowers herself closer to him and she doesn't miss the way his breath hitches, "And the third?"

His eyes soften and his hand stops drawing patterns on her thigh. This one, she thinks, must have meant something. He stays oddly silent for a long while, hands settling on her hips tenderly as he takes a breath.

"Right before the world cup final," his voice is softer now and she's too scared to ask how or why, "Right before we walked out onto the field."

Something in that spurs a memory or Maurice in the Krum Facility the morning she woke up.

" _Right_ before?' Rose asks, her meaning evident. Scorpius smiles sweetly and nods.

"Yes, in front of the whole team."

" _The whole team?!"_

"The whole team."

She's about to yell at him about how, exactly, he would allow that to happen, when four simple words stop her in her tracks.

"And it was perfect."

Rose's smile reflects his own and she's overtaken by an intense sadness at having forgotten it. She feels the need to apologise, so she does.

"I'm sorry I forgot," and somehow one of her hands finds itself cupping his face and everything is much too intimate for anyone's good. Straddling him, bare as the day she was born (but with considerably more hair), Rose feels a lot more naked than she can remember ever feeling in her life.

Scorpius' hand closes over her own where it rests on his face and he gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"That's ok," he gives her a lazy, genuine smile, hair an absolute wreck from where she's run her hands through it over and over again last night, and she's a very solid 99.765% sure she's never seen anything so beautiful, "Last night's was pretty damn perfect too."

And there it is. A little moment that scares the absolute shit out of her whilst simultaneously just making her want to laugh like a crazy person because this is actually real – _they love each other. Well holy shit. Who'd have thought?_

Scorpius slips his hand off of hers and it makes a very slow move down to her hip. She gets the idea. They've had this moment, they both know where they're at; time to get back to the fun stuff. Rose trails her own hand down his chest slowly to eventually take a solid grasp of his cock to line them up. He draws in a sharp breath ( _yeah she's never gunna get sick of that_ ) as she slides herself onto him. She gasps, he grips her tighter and they start to move against each other.

 _And dear fucking Merlin it's brilliant._

She's always tried to keep noises to a minimum in the bedroom, and she's never been one for talking during sex. But hell, he may just change her mind.

He groans when she lowers herself on to him, begs for more, breathes a desperate " _mercy"_ as he picks up the tempo, tells her she's gorgeous, says her name like a curse and a blessing, and it makes her feel beautiful. So she reciprocates, she gasps and tells him to do it again, grips him hard and prays for more, closes her eyes and lets out wordless cries, calls out his name, digs in her nails, and tells him to never, _ever_ stop.

Rose feels herself getting closer, her lower muscles clenching and tensing in the most wonderful way. She's thrown her head back, her legs are cramping, but she keeps going because she needs this, _oh Merlin_ does she need this.

Scorpius' voice cuts through her haze as she feels him shifting.

"Hold on to me," he's breathless and she does what he says, leaning down and wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands hold her close to him and in a display of some of the most impressive abdominal muscle strength she's ever witnessed, Scorpius hoists them up until they're sitting upright. She lets out a (rather embarrassing) squeak at the movement and the new angle it provides, and feels him smile against her neck. He's doing that smug ' _I know what you like'_ thing again. She'd hate him for it if he wasn't bloody right.

Still holding her close, Scorpius swings them round to hang his legs off the edge of the bed, feet braced against the floor. He shifts a little to allow Rose to wrap her legs around him, both of them finally settled into their new position.

It's not until he wraps his lips around her left nipple that Rose realizes why he's done it. – access all areas. Clever asshole. When he sucks long and hard she finds herself commending his decision too.

Rose gasps and lets her head drop back, hands knotting themselves into his hair to hold him where he is because _dear holy Merlin she never wants him to stop._ When he takes a greedy swipe across the surface of her breast with his tongue only to have it wrap around her other nipple, she can't stop the whimper that escapes her or the way she rocks against him. And apparently that's just what he wanted.

And then the bastard plays dirty. One of his hands snakes down between them as they start rocking, and his finger finds her clit and _sweet mother of Merlin this is almost too much to take._

Rose lets out a whine and her breathing starts to become erratic, completely beyond her control. They're moving fast, his mouth still latching onto her breast until they're moving too fast and all he can do is sit back and watch as Rose comes undone above him, calling his name. All she hears is the blood rushing in her ears and her own cries as she takes a tighter grip of his hair and lets herself go.

She rides out the feeling as long as she can, taking pleasure in how he's holding her steady against his lap as he spasms beneath her, his face buried in her neck to smother the sound of his groans. She hears him mutter a " _fuck Rose"_ and she swears to God she's never heard her name sound so desirable.

Besides last night, obviously.

She hopes it's like that every time.

As Rose tries to remember her name and how to breathe, she soothes Scorpius where he's collapsed against her, still recovering from a rather powerful orgasm ( _I know how you feel buddy)_. He lets out a heavy, satisfied groan against her neck and she swears he sounds a lot like an animal. It seems fitting. Plus it's damn sexy. _He can do that as much as he likes._

"I think," he says, voice hoarse for reasons other then sleep, "I think…"

"Really?" Rose asks with a smile, "Because I can't think a damn thing right now."

Scorpius chuckles against her, and she gets the distinct impression that's all he's really capable of right now. He presses his lips to her neck in a movement she assumes is supposed to be a kiss, and lets his forehead rest against her shoulder for a few moments. Rose is pretty darn sure she could get used to this.

Rose bends forward to press a kiss to the top of his head when something pungent and unavoidable reaches her nostrils.

"Pwoah!" she says with a grimace, "we really smell."

"We've played match of Quidditch and engaged in multiple rounds of very energetic and damn fantastic sex," and yes Rose is beaming at that little remark – _don't judge her_ , "Sweat and other bodily fluids are a regrettable side effect."

Rose hums and hates him a little for his ability to use such big words at an hour such as this after what they've done when Rose has only just managed to remember her own name again.

And what's that in her hands?

Oh, oh my. It appears she's stroking his hair.

She's not sure how she feels about that.

At that precise moment Scorpius decides to let out a low, appreciative growl, his arms tightening around her as he nuzzles her neck.

Yeah, she's pretty sure she's ok with the hair stroking.

What she is most certainly _not_ ok with, is Scorpius pulling his head back so quickly they almost topple back on to the bed.

"Woah!" his grimace matches her own, "We really smell."

She could get offended at that – and very nearly does – but she figures there's a much better way to fix this conundrum.

Rose goes about removing herself from Scorpius, stepping off him and trying to ignore the burn in all of her muscles or the way he frowns as she steps away from him.

"In that case," she takes a step back towards the ensuite, being careful to not get tangled in their robes and ruin her entire 'sex-kitten' routine she's trying to run with, "I suggest we shower."

The smirk she receives in response suggests she's succeeding.

"Shower, you say?" he stands and follows her, all smug and arrogant and sexy and beautiful, "Together I'm assuming?"

"Well you did promise me _every_ surface, Scorpius," Rose smiles and leans against the doorframe to the bathroom, "You're not one for going back on your word, are you?"

"No Rosie, I most certainly am not."

Scorpius holds true to his word.

Rose finally tells him she loves him while he's shampooing her hair.

Scorpius tells her he knows.

Rose punches him in the arm.

Scorpius tells her he loves her too ( _while he's laughing at her_ )

They're happy.

* * *

 _Rushed ending I know, but I just wanted to wrap it up. Hope you enjoyed it all ladies and gents, and that nothing got too overloaded on smut or anything. It's been fun, looking forward to getting the companion piece done as quickly as possible too._

 _Thanks for reading, you all make my day._

 _Until next time xo_


End file.
